The Last Lullaby
by BunniGirl
Summary: So: if it had been a dream, what would Sarah do? And what if Sarah couldn't wake up? M for mature content. SarahxJareth
1. Grand Guignol

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth.

Author: Bunni Girl

Summary: Not your typical Labyrinth fanfic.

Plot: Without giving too much away, simply put: what if the whole thing had been a dream? After all, there was evidence in the movie of the characters as objects in Sarah's room. So: if it had been a dream, what would Sarah do? And what if Sarah couldn't wake up?

Rating: Please keep in mind this is intended for a mature audience and therefore rated "M." There are strong adult themes such as violence, sexuality, and language; if you are not the recommended age limit, please be advised that the author nor the website is not responsible for the outcome.

* * *

_The Last Lullaby_

Chapter One

Grand Guignol

All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams. ~Elias Canetti

* * *

She laughed, finishing her dancing as she went into the hall. It had been one crazy party. Hoggle ended up having the lamp shade put on him, running around yelling that he couldn't see. Sir Didymus, of course, won at Scrabble. And she herself couldn't remember the last time it was that she had so much fun. Probably never.

Sarah giggled some more and yawned, looking around the empty house. She scratched her back and looked at the clock: 2:02 a.m. _Hmmm.._ "Dad? Karen?" She turned her head, her dark hair swishing with the movement.

Nothing.

No one.

Not a sound - even from Toby in the other room.

Her friends had left a while ago, promising to see her quite soon. All she had to do was call, they assured her. Just need them and they will be there with the flick of the wrist.

"Dad?" She went downstairs, wondering what was taking them. They should've been back by now. Taking one last frustrated look around, she went upstairs to finish cleaning up. And she thought _she_ was a party animal.

Picking up the last of the streamers and dumping them into a garbage bag, she flopped on her bed, ready to pass out from exhaustion. God, who knew solving the Labyrinth could take so much out of you? She had been running on pure adrenaline until now. She closed her eyes, feeling cold suddenly. Shivering, she turned on her side and yawned one last time before darkness claimed her.

She roused sometime later, blinking, looking at the clock on her nightstand. It blinked 5:55 in angry red lettering. She got up and stretched, feeling cold still. "Brrr, turn up the heat," she mumbled, fumbling in the dim lighting for her footing.

"Have a good rest, Sarah?"

She immediately stiffened and closed her eyes again. _Please let this be a nightmare_, she thought.

The smooth voice that sent pinpricks down her spine continued. "Oh, but it is."

She flung herself from the bed, unwilling to believe her bad luck. But lo and behold, on the other side of the bed was the Goblin King, facing the wall and not her. He was in his usual wear, looking dark and composed and ever so much the King. If it had not been for the immense fear and confusion she felt, she could've sworn his pose was meant to seduce her. In hindsight, maybe he was.

She got up immediately, her back to the opposite wall and circled around the bed cautiously. "What do you want? Why are you here?" No response. She decided to be a little haughty. He was in her domain now. "I thought I defeated you."

"Ha! Is it such a competition with you always?" He paused, and she could barely see the catlike grin come on his face. "Very well, Sarah... I'll play along." He swung his legs around, and said in a very dark yet amused voice. "You never won."

She stiffened. "Liar," she spat. She narrowed her eyes, wondering why he was here. And why he wasn't looking directly at her. "I beat you."

"On the contrary, Sarah," he said, as if on the point of laughing out loud. A crystal ball rotated on his fingertips acrobatically. Sarah stared at it before looking at the Goblin King. Her anger escalated with fear trailing not far behind it.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember a little present that the dwarf gave you?" She said nothing. He ventured forward, spinning the crystal in his hand still.

"A full-" spin, "juicy-" spin, "peach?" He almost looked at her before settling his gaze on the mirror, with a grin that exposed his fangs.

She paled. Sarah gathered her wits about her and rationalized quickly through the Goblin King's lies. "I woke up."

He said nothing and continued to smile - the only change was that he threw the ball up and down in the palm of his hand. She continued. "I did. I know I did. I woke up, found Ludo, Sir Didymus, and-and Hoggle and came to Goblin City... and said the words-" her voice was increasingly becoming filled with doubt.

"You don't honestly think that, now do you?" He looked even more amused, as if he was only humoring Sarah - a person with low intelligence. Too slow for the upkeep.

"Y-yes, I do." She crossed her arms, increasingly becoming upset by this. Even though, she thought, she shouldn't. It was lies. All lies. But then, why was she feeling more unnerved by his words?

"It was all in your head."

She couldn't speak. Even if she wanted to, what could she say?

"Your friends."

She put her hands to her ears.

"Ludo.."

No, no, no. It's not true. It can't be true.

"Sir Didymus.."

"Shut up," she moaned, her head suddenly hurting really bad.

"Even... your precious Hogwerth."

"His name is Hoggle," she said. She became tense with pain and shook with irrefutable anger. How dare he go so far as to say she **MADE IT ALL UP**. _He_ was there throughout the entire trial. _He_ brought her to that world. And now _he_ was accusing her of being crazy.

How dare he.

"Whatever. All of the Underground creatures figments of your imagination. Your journey," he stopped playing with the ball and looked at her dead on in the eyes in the mirror's reflection, "was a sham. A fabrication. Poof!" His hands were outspread and he smirked. "Magic, my darling. Of the mind, of course."

She shook with rage. "You're wrong. I can't trust your word, Jareth. I never could."

"Oh, really?" He raised an elegant eyebrow at her. He still wasn't looking at her. "Well, then Sarah. Do tell why is it your room is decorated the way it is? Hmm?"

Sarah let her eyes go over her possessions in a room that was hardly unchanged since she was young. She did not want to believe but as she scanned the objects, she grew less and less sure of herself.

The poster of the Escher room practically mirrored that of her final confrontation with Jareth.

The bookends that looked like Hoggle.

The music box that held the replica of the dress she wore dancing with Jareth.

The plush animal that could've passed as a stuffed Sir Didymus.

The fiery doll.

The figurine that was practically a miniature of Jareth.

"No, no, no..." she whispered to herself as her eyes darted around disbelievingly, finding more and more evidence to the Goblin King's claims.

"It's just a coincidence."

He said nothing.

"This isn't real."

Her fists became tight balls of fury. "You're just a sore loser." He sighed tiredly, sounding annoyed, as if he had this conversation before.

"Didn't I just say, Sarah, that there was no winner?"

"My will is as strong as yours..."

"Oh bloody hell, here we go again."

"- and my kingdom is as great..." Everything became still. Jareth had stopped playing with his crystal ball. Sarah smirked, happy she had finally got the upper hand. It was time to banish him from her life - this time forever. "You have no power over me."

He seemed to ponder this and shrugged before laying himself down on her bed again, and throwing the ball up and down. "You're right."

She was instantly suspicious. "I am?" She did a double back when she realized he was not even remotely fazed by what she said. He was still here. "Wait, what?"

"Of course," he seemed surprised at her tone. "I don't have power over you, my dearest," he purred, smiling. "Not one bloody bit."

"Why... why are you still here?" She looked around her surroundings, incredulous. Was he right? Was this... was it all a dream? Was she still somewhere in a forest, in an enchanted sleep as the clock went ticking by?

Toby... Mom... Dad.. Karen.. Her life as she knew it was over.

"You have no power over me," she repeated, as if this were some awful hoax. Why did it feel like the room suddenly got colder and smaller? Her eyes searched Jareth's face. His eyes were always somewhere else other than her. She didn't have time to wonder why he couldn't meet her gaze.

"Sarah, don't be a broken record. It's so beneath you."

Her first reaction was to be annoyed with that remark but she put a hand to her temple, gritting her teeth. This felt like a nightmare. "Jareth..." Her world was going dark and she couldn't prevent it. Her head felt like it was splitting in two. "Nooo. Jareth. Please." She knealt down, trying to keep her balance. The Goblin King walked over to her. She clutched his leg, slipping down to the bed, her hands pressing against the skull to relieve the excruciating pain.

"Maybe next time you won't reject my precious gifts to you, Sarah," he said softly. Sarah almost could've sworn she heard the light tilt of sadness in his voice. "Perhaps, next time... it will be so much more different."

"What do you..." Her breathing became heavy and her headache became worse. "..mean?" She whispered as she fell down on the bed, closing her eyes to block out the unbearable pain. She felt Jareth near her as he leaned down close to her face by her ear. He caressed her cheek, his leather-clad hand lingering there longer than it should have.

"Such a pity."

**---**

"Jareth!"

She woke with a start, sweating profusely. Her breaths were ragged and harsh. Her lungs burned as she sucked for air, eyes aching with sleep. Her body hurt, and it shook from the all too realness of her dream. God, it felt so real. She could have sworn he was there, mocking her, touching her... haunting her like a ghost. She shivered in the cold, clutching unfamiliar itchy sheets around her. Sarah closed her eyes.

But it was a dream. He wasn't here.

She wiped the sweat off her face and laid down looking at the ceiling. She had expected a more familiar sight, like her room, or even to hear the sound of Toby crying nearby, but the crying she heard didn't belong to a baby.

She turned to one side and saw a body rocking in a bed. Struck with fear, she rolled over, trying to observe her surroundings quickly. What sort of trick had Jareth pulled this time?

It was a white, sterile environment. Passionless, boring... clinical. She shivered again, trying to take in everything, however impossible it was in the dark.

She curled up and the small bed creaked with her. An IV machine was discarded in the corner as she realized there were more people in beds around her slightly snoring. There was a light from a window above her that had bars on it.

She tried closing her eyes and opening them again. Tried over and over.. but reality soon sunk in:

She was not in Kansas anymore.

She was in a hospital. She bit her lip so hard that blood came trickling down. "What in the hell is going on?"

* * *

**TBC**

Author's note: This is my first Labyrinth fanfic (I mean, in a long time). Please, constructive criticism is enjoyed, as well as blatant compliments. Please review and tune in for the next chapter which is coming up soon.


	2. Huis Clos

Author: Bunni Girl

Disclaimer: Do not own the Labyrinth. Claim credit for the writing below, however. Be warned for the use of coarse language below.

Recap: She tried closing her eyes again. Tried over and over.. but reality soon sunk in: She was not in Kansas anymore. She was in a hospital.

* * *

**The Last Lullaby**

**Chapter Two**

**Huis-Clos**

They call me mad, while they are all mad themselves.

-Platus

* * *

Sarah stared at the table, her mouth slightly open and her eyes fixed on a certain spot of the surface. Her hair was stringy and felt oily and brittle, no longer the beautiful luster it was just a few days ago. She blinked, suddenly feeling very old. But most of all she felt very angry. Very angry at being subjected to living like this. But she kept the facade up, kept pretending to look like she had no purpose. And if she did that, they would leave her alone.

The people around her moaned softly, also in a daze. Some walked aimlessly around, with no purpose in life. Some sat in corners, rocking themselves to this sad reality. And some, like Sarah, stared at surfaces, looking at the ingrained patterns for messages for their freedom.

Sarah's message was: **SUCH A PITY.**

Despite her previous vow of nonchalance, she angrily hit the table as if it verbally offended her. The message was gone and in a blink of an eye, she was automatically restrained by two men by the charming names of Larry and Ronald.

"Woah now, steady. Calm down." Larry soothed, pulling her away from her chair. He gripped her left arm enough to make her wince.

"Yeah, that table never did anything to you, did it?" The other orderly on her right, Ronald, tried to smile at her. Sarah just looked at him blankly before nodding. When they were sure she had calmed down, they let her go and she sat down, this time not looking at the table. Ronald gave her a small leer and patted her shoulder. She tried not to react to avoid giving him the satisfaction that he got to her, and would have a reason to touch her again.

Instead, she took the time to contemplate why and how exactly she got here again. She scanned the room, feeling a sense of deja vu from her dream when she did the same with Jareth. 'Jareth,' she thought, feeling bitter. 'This is his doing, I'm sure. How is he doing this though? An insane asylum... really, Jareth? Of all the things he's thrown at me, something as dull as an insane asylum?' She had expected some flair, some mystery, something that glittered when she looked at. At least some monsters.

Nope. All that was there was a few sad women, caught between reality and a nightmare.

She didn't even remember COMING to this place, let alone belonging here. Sure, she was different than children her age... but crazy?

The room was open and dim - an atmosphere to choke optimism and hope of ever getting out. There were orderlies by the doors and one by the window, and ironically, huge muscular men to subdue whatever insane notion their guests had.

How? Just HOW? She couldn't exactly figure it out. The last thing she remembered was Jareth, tossing his dumb crystal ball in the air, playing cat and mouse with her. "Is there no winning in this world?" She mumbled, tempted to shake her fist at the Fates.

She leaned back in her chair. No. It was better just to stay quiet. If she gave in to any crazy thoughts now, she would just fortify their theory that she IS crazy. "Christ," she let out, feeling helpless. No matter how many times she told anyone in charge that she wasn't crazy, she got the feeling that she wasn't going to see the outside world for a very, very long time.

No winning in this world... she mused over those words. What did Jareth mean by that? She had beat him, fair and square, and it hadn't been the piece of cake she bragged it to be. No, it was in her deepest fears that she was in that forest still, sleeping, the clock having chimed thirteen hours ago. What was he going to do with her? It was only a matter of time before she saw him again.

And when she did... her eyes popped open when she saw a familiar mop of platinum blond hair near the door. She warily stood up, slowly going toward it. It was a man, talking to an orderly. He had a distinct accent that chilled her blood. Her hands shook when she realized who it was. Who he was.

She didn't realize she was still walking toward him, still stuck in her zombie like state of shock. When he finished talking, he turned, only a few feet away from her. He recognized her, she caught that, but there was no hint at any subtle deviousness or the slick seduction she last saw him wear when they were in her bedroom.

He smiled at her, and she caught her breath in her throat before setting her gaze at his throat. A few seconds went by before she lunged.

She could barely hear them. She knew she was being pried off of 'his majesty' and even worse being fitted with something restraining and hot. She struggled but kept her eyes on _him_. He was the reason she was here. He was the reason she was miserable, stuck in this illusion.

His hands touched his throat as he stared at her, wide-eyed with fear. That broke her reverie as she contemplated the new factor, causing her rage rapidly going down.

Jareth wasn't afraid of anyone. Especially her. Be it haughty, arrogant, or even angry, but never fearful, never meek.

What was going on?

Letting her guard down, she became open for attack. She felt a needle go into her skin and winced, but never took her eyes off Jareth (or someone who looked exactly like Jareth). A part of her just wanted this to be a dream, something so faraway that couldn't touch her in reality. Another part knew, just knew this was all real; Sarah just didn't want to admit it, didn't want to realize that this was not going away.

She wasn't crazy. She wasn't. It was his fault, his!

Her eyes lidded down slowly and she felt the darkness come on again like an old friend bragging of their current achievements. She was the loser and they were the winner... whoever they were.

"Jareth..." she said, feeling the effects of the drug take effect. Everything had a fuzzy edge now, and she was feeling a bit sleepy.

In the background she heard someone yell "No, no!" It was him. It was Jareth.

Jareth pulled the orderlies off of her and she frowned at him, her own mind become distant from her body. What did he want? "That's alright," he said. He cleared his throat, putting a hand there almost protectively. He looked at her. "It's okay, I'm fine."

She wanted to say "So what if you're fine?" but she couldn't move her tongue. Only drool came out. Jareth took out a handkerchief and almost dabbed it off, but decided against it, tucking the fabric back into his white laboratory coat. He seemed to remember where he was and got up, putting a cold face on. He nodded at the guards and avoided her eyes, walking away.

_What the fuck is going on here?_ She thought as she was dragged away by the orderlies. Sarah was starting to think, "Maybe I am crazy after all."

* * *

"Sarah."

She twitched and rolled over. "Five more minutes, Karen," she mumbled, barely lifting a hand to wave off her rude stepmother. She wanted to sleep. Couldn't the woman see that?

"Sarah." The voice was more urgent, and now resorted to shaking her.

"I said five more-" Sarah bolted up, sleep still in her eyes. She wasn't in her room. She wasn't in her old bed.

And before her was the Goblin King himself.

"Jareth," she snarled, immediately getting her wits about her. She remembered his cruel trick of putting her in some sick delusion of a hospital. She narrowed her eyes and got up with liquid ease. She became aware she wasn't wearing her clothing.... that is to say, the clothing she completed the Labyrinth in. It was a simple dress, grey to complement her eyes and coloring. Under any other circumstances, she would have loved it. Would have loved the fantasy she was participating against (if it didn't mean against her will.) But it was different this time.

He was so cruel looking. So cold. His hair, his eyes, even his stance meant he kept a distance from her emotionally, mentally, and physically. He was in his usual attire, as if this was the only uniform he knew to dress in when she was around. She briefly wondered if he even had any other sort of clothes besides shirts that revealed his chest and pants that were incredibly too tight on him. He looked her over in dark amusement, chuckling as if he had heard her thoughts, and smiled that chilling way of his. "You're awake," he said. "Finally."

Her anger flared and she took a step forward to lunge at him and he held up his hand. "Oh, don't do this, Sarah. I thought we had enough of these... _games._"

She stayed where she was, too furious to even take her eyes off of him. "Games? You think this is funny, you asshole?"

"Language, Sarah," he looked a bit shocked at her tone, and put a hand to his chest as if physically accosted. "I have a good mind to take a bar of soap," he conjured the object in his hand, and arched an eyebrow at her, "and wash that deliciously filthy mouth of yours."

"Fuck you, Jareth. I'm done playing this game. What are you doing this time? I won fair and square."

"Fair?" He threw the soap over his shoulder with little thought, and turned his back on her. "Oh, precious. Is that the sort of rulebook you're abiding by now?" He strolled over to a low wall made out of stone, and looked at her with appraising eyes that didn't quite meet hers. "And here I thought we had an understanding."

"Understanding? You sick _fuck_, I'll show you understanding." She disregarded his earlier warning and pounced, ready to strike him. But she only met air and fell on the stone wall, groaning. Jareth leaned down beside her.

"To be _fair_, I did warn you, Sarah."

"Yeah, right," she mumbled, the wind momentarily taken out of her. She distanced herself from the Goblin King, hating him more than she ever had before. Whatever she felt in the Labyrinth, whatever attraction and mixed feelings toward him were fast evaporating... and all that was left was pure contempt. She shivered in the cold and looked around. There they were, in the Labyrinth. This felt eerily familiar, but she couldn't place it past the last time she had been there. Had she been there before? But that was impossible.

"You _have_ been here before," Jareth supplied, reading her thoughts. She whirled around, her hair going with her, and she glared at him.

"Stop that."

"What," he said in a bored tone, now looking into one of his crystal balls.

"That... that mind reading thing you're doing. It's freaking me out." Not to mention that it made her feel more vulnerable than she was already feeling. She put her arms across her chest and walked to the opposite wall, putting her back to it. Petulant as ever, she gave him another hateful look to remind him of how he made her feel.

"Very well, Sarah," he gave her a smile. "As you wish."

"And stop being so-so-"

"Oh what is it now, precious?" He threw up the crystal and caught it with ease. "Ever so demanding. I hope you're aware of how taxing this is on me."

"On you? You? You're the one who's doing this! I want to go home, Jareth. I want to see my father, Toby. I even want to see Karen. I want to be in my own world. You're the one who's keeping me here like a prisoner." She pushed herself off the enchanted wall and strode up to him, feeling extraordinarily brave at the moment. "What did I ever do to you?" By now they were close. Too close. Her face was up near his in a staunch sign of defiance and a symbol of the will he had not squashed yet.

That was the operative word: _yet_.

He made the first move after a minute of this silent standoff. She flinched when he raised his hand and closed her eyes. Instead of a blow, he cupped her cheek, caressing it tenderly. The feel of the smooth, cool leather against her hot skin made her gasp, and he took advantage of this opening.

He leaned down to kiss her, deeply and savagely. Sarah knew to resist. She knew to squirm and kick her away from him. She even tried to tear her head away when she felt his lips on hers. His hands were on the sides of her face, not rough at all, but gentle and patient. She gave one last shot at twisting away from him. But it was no use; she gave in to his charms, surprised at how little she fought against it. As if she expected it... or worse, wanted it. It felt natural to kiss Jareth this way. It felt good. He bit slightly on her lip, bringing her into his embrace. She felt warmer than she did when she was without him and brought up her hands to tangle into his hair.

Jareth dropped the crystal ball in the pursuit of her mouth, and eagerly taught the novice the ways of an experienced Casanova. He pressed her body against his, moving from her mouth down her neck. She gave a sharp exhale at how good it felt.

Nothing could ruin this moment. Nothing except...

Toby. The Labyrinth. She had to wake up. She had to save him.

She opened her eyes and looked around. It was different but the same. There was snow everywhere and the walls were green, as if made out of grass or hedges. But Jareth was still on her, still assaulting her skin, still driving her slowly out of her mind with his touches and the words that he mumbled underneath his tongue as he did.

No. No, this was wrong.

She pushed him away, almost violently. She fell back on the ground, with a nice dull thud. He looked surprised, eyes still half-lidded from the lust from the encounter. "Sarah?" He was now coming awake from the pleasure, becoming aware of the situation. "Sarah, are you alright?"

"No. I won't let you trick me. Not again." She inched away from him, her joints crunching in the new snow. She was in different clothes, and so was he. Both were bundled up in downy jackets, puffed up to protect against the cold. Their breaths showed in the cold and their faces were red from the weather... and from their previous interrupted passion. He looked confused for a second before realization dawned on him (realization of what, Sarah wondered) and he took a step back from her, to give her more space. He knew what was going on. "Sarah." She continued to crawl away, keeping her eyes on him.

He had a pained expression as he looked her in the eyes, his voice wavering with uncertainty and fear. "Remember me, Sarah."

What was he saying to her?

"Please, remember me."

Suddenly they were in the Labyrinth, the snow gone. And he was the Goblin King again. "Sarah." He held out his hand to her, eyes on the ground. She got up to her feet, and backed away, unsure of herself. What was happening to her? He was the enemy. How could she let herself forget... she bit her lip and shook her head. No, no, she wouldn't let him win. These mind tricks he played. These mind tricks that he used against her to confuse her so he could best her.

"Sarah." She looked at him and there was snow again, drifting down around them. He held his hand out, looking at her with such sadness and... love? No, it couldn't be. She shook her head and found herself crying, but didn't know why. He made a move to get close to her and she bolted, frightened.

"Get away from me, Jareth!"

_What did you do to me, you precious thing?_

"No!" She yelled, holding her head as she ran more.

"Sarah!"

"I've got to save Toby!"

"Sarah, please! Stop!"

"I've got to get out of here!"

"Sarah, wait! No!"

As she was running, she slipped on some snow, her world tumbling around her. She fell and hit her head, rolling in the white snow. Her head throbbed like a familiar friend calling in to say hello, and she felt arms around her, and a voice, what a sweet voice... it was calling out her name. She couldn't hear the exact words, but she felt warm, so warm, like she did in Jareth's arms when he kissed her. Those arms, she thought as her world grew dark. Those arms were around her now. Jareth, it was Jareth who was crying for her, touching her face as he lifted her in his arms. Such a strong man, he was... but why did he cry? She tried to grasp on that thought as she felt herself fade.

_What did you do to me, Jareth_, she thought as she slipped out of this world... and woke up in another.

* * *

When Sarah opened her eyes, she blinked in the darkness. Groaning, she wiped her dribble against the wall, her face wrinkling against a soft mattress. It smelled dirty, as if it hadn't been washed in a while. It ranked of mold, and even worse in another corner, of sick. Someone had thrown up here in the past, unable to take the stress of being in the dark so long, and of course, the courteous staff 'forgot' to clean it up.

She brought her face away from the soft wall, and groaned, wanting to feel her throbbing head. But her arms were tied up in a straitjacket. She briefly struggled against her before giving up, knowing how futile it was.

All she had to do was wait.

How she detested waiting.

It wasn't her first time in confinement. She had been brought here when she first 'arrived' (in a manner of speaking.) After threatening the orderlies and repeatedly asking for Jareth, the staff restrained her. Hysterical, they sedated her with drugs before locking her up in this soft, lightless dungeon. For what felt like days, she stayed before she was allowed out without so much as shower. No one talked to her when she came out of confinement, as if they knew better than to risk the chance. She felt freer when she was let out of this dank prison...

But not for long apparently. "This really bites," she said.

One thing she learned about the place she was in was that if you misbehaved, you were locked in a room. And this room, whether for an hour, fifteen minutes, or a week... was what Hades could've been like. In fact, as far as Sarah was concerned it was Hades.

In another corner (thankfully, not the one Sarah was in), it smelled like stale urine and other disgusting elements; how Sarah knew that, she didn't want to know. It was so dark that there wasn't even a speck of light to be found. She felt so cold and alone - as if she didn't exist in the normal world. For a minute, she could've sworn she was in an oubliette. Forgotten and almost dead; all that was left was a machine to tear her to pieces. At least that would have given her some reassurance of what she was up against; this new reality jarred her in the worst way.

She rested against the mattress walls, unable to sit without some sort of support, and banged her head lightly against the surface. Whatever happened to better treatment for the mentally incompetent? She gave a short laugh. They almost had her referring to herself as "mentally incompetent." When she got her hands on Jareth, he was toast. He was dead. There wasn't a prayer in the world for her fury when she got out.

Why was this happening to her?

Why her?

God damn Jareth.

Why couldn't he just let bygones be bygones? But noooo.. he had to come back, prove he was so big and bad and-

A squeak in the corner. She focused her eyes on that part of the darkness. It shuffled quickly - almost _too quickly_ around the area. Sarah started to breathe rather hard. How big was this room? It couldn't be very big, not big enough for two people, let alone a hoard of gobl-

**No. **She tried to breathe to control her hyperventilation. _Calm down, Sarah. Keep your wits about you. It's not like he put goblins here to spite you._ Despite this logic, she kept to a corner, rocking herself. More squeaking and she almost let out a sigh of relief. Rats. It was rats. It wasn't goblins. It had to be rats. But even with her logic going into full blast, there was an inkling of worry in her heart. Rats didn't sound that big... and rats in a room like this with no escape? How could such a big rat get around? She shivered, willing herself not to cry. She wouldn't let him win. She wouldn't let them get to her.

It had to be rats. It had to be. For the sake of Sarah's sanity, she believed that with all of her heart. And if it was rats, she felt a shudder go down her body. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. What sort of hospital was this?

Sarah's sanity was still in tact by the time she heard a knock at the door. She didn't know whether to be relieved, or frightened at the possibility that it could get worse from this room... that _he_ had worse ideas to punish her with. But anything was better than wasting in this pit, this hellish darkness where she couldn't tell time apart, and where the days felt like they melted together like warm butter. _At least_, she hoped,_ I think anything is better._

A eyeslit at the top opened, letting in the burning light. She hissed at the pain her eyes experienced and closed her eyes, unable to deal with the sudden exposure. She wished she had her hands to shield her from it and grew even more ansy at the possibility at being let out.

"How we doin', M'lady?" the eyeslit said.

She refused to growl for a response. "Fine," she said weakly, willing to say anything to get her out of there so she could take a bath... hell, even eat. "How long have I been in here?"

"Want the number of occasions, or just the duration in total?"

Sarah rolled her eyes in the dark, and then realized the futility of the gesture when the other person couldn't see it. "Nevermind. Can I come out now?"

"Only if you promise to behave yourself."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

He laughed. Both knew the promise was insincere at best, but the orderly opened the door in any case. "Welcome back to the land of the living, M'lady. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

* * *

AN: Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter. I know this chapter may seem, well, a bit short... but all in good time. Trust me, you're going to want to savor this one.

If Sarah seems OCC, well... think about it: if you were trapped in a mental institute and had no idea how you got there, wouldn't you act a little out of sorts everytime you were put in confinement in a smelly, dark room for days? "Yes," is the answer I'm looking for.

Please review.


	3. Au Contraire

Disclaimer: I do not own the _Labyrinth_'s characters; I do, however, retain the right over the creative content below.

Rating: Please keep in mind this is not intended for an adolescent audience and therefore rated "T." If you are not the recommended age limit, please be advised that the author nor the website is not responsible for the outcome.

* * *

**The Last Lullaby**

**Chapter Three**

**Au Contraire**

_Those who have compared our life to a dream were right.... We sleeping wake, and waking sleep. ~Michel de Montaigne_

**

* * *

**It wasn't easy, but she did it. She managed to fool them all.**  
**

After the Hole incident, Sarah went to bed deciding something serious: once she woke up the next morning, she would act like she had become resigned to her fate (for the moment, that is), and would become accustomed to a schedule like all the other women at the J.M. Reveille Psychiatric Hospital.

She would eat the food they would tell her to eat until starvation became a more appealing option again.

She would sleep where they told her to sleep.

...And she would take the drugs they gave her.

But she wouldn't give in -- not now, not ever. She'd die first before that ever happened.

Sarah learned very quickly from watching the other patients to stash them away as currency. She wanted to see if she can use them to trick someone, anyone, into giving her more information about her situation.

Because despite all outward appearances, she would not go down without a fight. She would defeat Jareth, tooth and nail against this atrocity -- this terrible, terribly unfair game that he was playing with her.

She was no pawn; she was a warrior. She fought her way out once (at least, she _thought _she did...) and she would do it again.

At least...

That was the plan.

She looked out the window at the cold snowy yard. In the distance she saw a snow-covered hedgemaze and shivered, remembering the Labyrinth. It seemed to call out to her, like a half-forgotten tune in the back of her mind. If only she remembered the words...

_Jareth..._ she thought, almost wistfully.

She wrapped her arms around her, feeling cold. It was funny how that feeling never went away from her. Several days in this nightmare and they seemed to blur together, like a chill that she couldn't shake off. And here she was, thinking about Jareth and his words. They seemed to play over and over in her head and she tried to make sense of it. But then again, how could she when she knew that all that came from him were lies?

The wistful feeling was almost against her will as she recalled that dream/memory until her thoughts were interrupted--

"Sarah?"

She looked over her shoulder at the woman in white. She wasn't that old, but she wasn't that young -- just a person stuck between an age, with dark blond hair in a tight bun. But it was her cold, cold blue eyes that really made Sarah shiver, like there was an evil in them that couldn't be contained and seeped out of her eyesockets as a result, tainting the world around her. Her mouth was thin and cruel, like _his_ lips.

Those lips that she kissed so ardently before...

She turned her head away back to the window, back to the outside world which she longed to be a part of.

She was in a circle of other patients, women that Sarah didn't bother being acquainted with. Many felt faceless to her, but there was something so familiar about this. About everything. That bothered Sarah like an itch on her back that she couldn't reach. Why was it so familiar? She had never been here before in her life. She was just a sixteen year old girl! But even so, this was her current reality (even if she couldn't accept it). The woman in white was the Assistant Head Psychologist, in charge of weekly group therapies for the inmates of Reveille. Some were as ansy as she was, and some still, in a coma-like silence. And some were looking at her, as if they knew what was going to happen next in the story.

"Hmm?" Sarah finally answered, still distracted by the scenery. There was something so familiar about it. But what?

"Did you hear me, Sarah?"

God, that woman sounded _just_ like Karen. She whirled around and glared. "_What_?"

Dr. Q. Fairley narrowed her eyes at Sarah's insolent tone. "What is so interesting out there?"

Sarah almost said 'Freedom.'

Instead, she said, "Nothing. I just like the snow." She turned around and looked out the window, drawn to the hedgemaze. Then she felt silly for being so preoccupied with the frozen garden. Best to play along, she thought to herself and righted herself in the chair. "I'm sorry." She shook her head at her behavior. "What was your question?" The rest of the patients were looking curiously at her, and she fidgeted under their gazes.

Fairley smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. "Are you still dreaming, Sarah?"

The words struck her. She looked straight into the doctor's eyes suspiciously. "Dreaming?"

"Yes, your labyrinth dreams. The place you call the," she paused, looking at her yellowed notes, "the 'Underground.' Is that right?"

"That's right," she found herself saying through her suddenly dry throat. She put a hand there and rubbed. It felt strange talking to someone about what she was determined to keep a secret. "How did you know that?" But she already knew the answer to that.

Fairley looked amused and it looked so similar to the Goblin King's mocking features that Sarah wanted to smack the woman's face. "You told me so. You told all of us," she gestured to the patients around her.

Her heart thudded in her chest and she couldn't believe it. She never told anyone anything -- not one word about Hoggle, about Sir Didymus, about Ludo -- not even about the labyrinth itself. So it must've been a lie planted by Jareth; where else would the woman get that sort of information? Dr. Fairley tapped her foot slightly on the linoleum floor and Sarah tried to breathe under the pressure.

Everyone seemed to be looking at her.

A woman near the back gave a high-pitched giggle, rocking herself.

Dr. Fairley looked at her and shook her head. "Alice, now is not the time. It's Sarah's turn to speak." Then she turned to the woman in question.

"What's the matter, Sarah?" Sarah saw the woman's smile slightly widen. "Cat got your tongue?"

Sudden clarity occurred to Sarah and she was able to breathe again.

She leaned back in her chair, suddenly feeling confident for the first time in days. Whoever this woman was, she worked with Jareth. Sarah couldn't trust anything in this illusion, not even those who claimed to help her. It was all she could do not to grab the chair and smash open the window to escape this mad world. At least the Underground had rules. This place, this place made her feel like there were no rules... like she was actually crazy.

_No! No. I have to keep level. _Sarah put a hand to her throbbing temple, trying to focus on Fairley. _Otherwise, Jareth wins. He wins, I lose, and I won't wake up. _She snapped suddenly. That's it. Wake up.

"Sarah?" the doctor questioned as the patient shakily stood up and grabbed her chair. "Sarah... put that chair down now."

"Go to hell, Jareth!" Sarah shouted and struck the window with the chair, holding her breath as it left her hands for the magic to disappear -- to shatter into a million pieces like so long ago.

Instead, it bounced back, the chair skidding across the floor. Sarah looked at the chair in disbelief, as if she couldn't believe what just happened.

She was resisted by orderlies a second later. Dr. Fairley shook her head and tsked her, as if Sarah was a child stealing from a cookie jar. "Now, now, Sarah... you should know by now that we don't have glass anymore. Not after the last time."

She struggled in the orderlies grip, glaring at Fairley. She shouted at the ceiling, specifically the security camera in the corner. "You're not going to win, Jareth. I'll escape this and I'll win Toby." She twisted in the grip, gritting her teeth. "God dammit! Let me go! Let me go!"

The good doctor arched her perfectly waxed eyebrows up and frowned a little bit at the woman's resistance. "I see. Well, you've got two options, Sarah. One, you can pick up your chair, sit down, and behave like all the other girls here..." She paused, putting a finger to her chin, a devilish smile flashing on her face before being covered up by a neutral look. "Or, we can arrange other accommodations for you."

She quit struggling for a moment, slumping with the exertion of trying to overpower to musclemen. She mumbled something, causing Fairley to lean in.

"What was that?"

Sarah spat in the woman's face, causing saliva to ooze over the woman's left eye. "I said, 'Go fuck yourself.'" A bunch of whispers started and Fairley looked around annoyed, wiping the spit with her hand.

"Alright," she gritted with a smile, "have it your way, Sarah."

She motioned for the orderlies to take Sarah away before turning back to her seat. "Settle down now, before you all get lock-up." She went back to her seat, picking up her notepad. A collective "oooh" was echoed as Sarah went by, and as she was dragged out the door, she heard a distinct whisper say, "You've got balls, Sarah. Now they're gonna send you to _him_."

It didn't take Sarah much to figure out who 'him' was. She swallowed and glared at the darkness as she was dragged away, thinking, 'It'll be a piece of cake.'

* * *

His name, apparently, wasn't Jareth.

At least that's what they said to her went they brought her to his door. But what did they know? She beseeched them at first but they stonily ignored her, and she sighed. She didn't know why she bothered to try and make friends out of these people. It was like befriending a goblin. She looked at the large oak door, and observed its age and grandeur. It was beautiful, and so unapproachable that Sarah hesitated going near it. There was something so familiar about this, as if she had done this before more than once. In a way, she reflected, it was like being sent to the Principal's office, or worse, to Daddy's study. She tried to shake off her nervousness and stuck out her chin more.

**J.M. Reveille Superintendent. Head of Psychiatry**, it said in gleaming golden letters at the top of the door.** Jared G. King, MD**. She snorted when she saw that. She wasn't an idiot.

"MD, my ass," she muttered under her breath, forgetting to watch herself around the staff. She ignored the orderlies and waited by the door, somehow afraid to touch the wood, afraid to enter and see Jareth again.

What would she do?

What would she say?

Would she end up in the Hole again?

All of these questions and more were swirling in her head and she bit her lip. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

There was a thick air of apprehension and she realized that the orderlies were waiting for her to knock on the door. She briefly debated just standing there until they did it for her, but another minute went by and she realized that the knocking was her territory now. When she finally did, she heard a calm "Come in" invite her in. She gulped, despite her bravado. _Here goes nothing_, she thought, and went in to kick some ass.

When she opened the door, she was struck at the appearances of the office. Whatever she had been expecting of Jareth's lair, it certainly wasn't this. It was professional, but not incredibly modern. It felt old, so old -- made of wood and history, covered with bookshelves and mahogany, that it felt nostalgic to Sarah. As if she knew this place very well... and she had mixed feelings about that. The walls were covered with frames, no pictures--just certificates and notes of importance. The carpet was lush and Sarah blushed at it, not knowing why she felt so embarrassed by looking at it. The air was warm, almost physically inviting and Sarah's muscles relaxed against her own will. It was like magic.

She didn't know why, but she liked it here... it was the closest thing to home, strangely.

But why did she feel this way?

"Thank you, Cherry. Bob," the figure at the desk nodded at the orderlies without turning his head. "That will be all. I can take it from here."

The orderlies instantly left her side and closed the door behind them with an inaudible sound. She was trapped in here, with him.

Why did that exhilarate her so?

"Come in, Sarah. Make yourself at home." His accent was rich, and she shivered in delight when he said her name so gently. There was light amusement in his voice, as if he found the whole thing very funny. She narrowed her eyes, preparing to unleash a verbal assault when she paused as she came closer. He was at his desk, writing, and he absently gestured at the chair next to the desk, not bothering to look at her the whole time. She walked carefully to him, mindful to keep her distance lest he throw a crystal ball at her suddenly. And then she realized how crazy that sounded, and rolled her eyes.

Looking closely at him, there were notable differences. Small, but a few. For one, he didn't wear any make-up. His brows were a little fuller than she last remembered. His long fluffed up platinum blond hair was strung back in a discreet ponytail as if his hair was an annoyance. She sat down and leaned in, looking at his face as he continued to write. He looked older than she had remembered him in the Labyrinth. Somehow, she just assumed he would never age, let alone in a few days. But no, there were wrinkles -- slight and few, wrinkles nevertheless. The crow's feet at his eyes more pronounced, heavier frown lines around his mouth -- but he was still as handsome, as beautiful as the first moment she saw him.

"Like what you see?""

His teasing woke her up from her reverie and she put arms in front of her chest self-consciously. "No," she said.

He looked up from his writing and gave her a wan smile, putting his chin in his gloved hand. "That so," he murmured, not entirely believing her. "Pity." He turned his chair to face her more directly. "So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Sarah?"

"Cut the crap, Jareth. You know why I'm here."

His jaw locked in anger. "I was only trying to be civil, _Sarah_." There was a dark, hurt look that flew across his face and stayed there for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and willed the emotion away. When he opened them, he was the impassive doctor again. "Yes, I know why you are here. Being naughty again, I presume?"

"Hardly."

"And here I was under the impression you were sent here because you had an jostle with Dr. Fairley."

Sarah snorted, knowing this was all contrived bullshit -- Jareth knew why she was here; he had orchestrated it himself. "Whatever," she said, slouching in her chair. Her bones creaked, and she ignored the sudden loss of the springy use of her joints. She didn't feel as young as she did last week. "She deserved it." Jareth didn't say anything, and instead appraised her with a look.

There was a thick silence in the room and she shifted in her chair, uncomfortable with his stare. His eyes seemed to be moving over her body, inspecting her, and she couldn't help but blush from the attention. No boy had ever given her this sort of look, and no man, save Jareth, ever did either. He seemed to want to say something, but what? Whatever it was in that brief moment, it was gone as fast and he cleared his throat, breaking the look to review his notes.

"You can't keep doing this, Sarah. If you act up again in group, there'll be consequences."

She froze. He wouldn't... he wouldn't lock her up there again... would he? She gripped the arms of the chair and became petulant, like a little child. "Like what? The Hole? Do your worst, Jareth."

He shook his head. "You don't know the extent of it, Sarah... you've been in lock-up too much as it is this past week. How many times now?" He waited for her to respond, looking her in the eyes. Sarah's breath caught, her resolve beginning to break (or was it ever solid to begin with?) and she slipped up, answering.

"Twice," her mouth was dry again at the memory of that terrible place. "...Three days total." She couldn't believe she was even having this conversation with Jareth, like he was her actual doctor.

...And she really was crazy.

"Hmm," he let out, shaking his head at her. But he didn't look at her. He wrote on a piece of paper and bent to his right to look for something in his drawers. "That's a pity."

"Why's that?" she stuck out her chin, ready for a fight -- but still curious about her rights (and the rules) of this battlefield.

"Well, acting up cuts your privileges, Sarah," he looked at her finally, a faint smile at his lips as if he secretly admired her bravado. "And I know how much you love going outside when it's snowing."

"Privileges?"

"You know.. calling home, writing letters, seeing visitors, access to restricted areas, and-" he paused, letting a grin slide on his face. "Walking on the grounds unsupervised."

"Unsupervised?"

His grin widened. "Yes, unsupervised."

It seemed too good to be true what Jareth seemed to be promising her in exchange for good behavior. She tried to act disinterested. "Oh."

"Such a pity, though... your behavior in the past week has really set you back."

_--She felt Jareth near her as he leaned down close to her face by her ear. He caressed her cheek, his leather-clad hand lingering there longer than it should have. "Such a pity."--_

Sarah bristled at the memory, and snapped at him. "Can you not say that?"

"Say what?" He looked at her, very curious, unaware of what made her so surly.

"That.. pity thing you say. It pisses me off."

"Ah, well, I'll refrain from that from now on, Sarah."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back, or in this case, Sarah's tolerance of this charade. "I want to know the real truth, Jareth," Sarah said, feeling strange at being in this predicament. "Why am I here?"

He set down a file on his desk, and didn't answer.

"Jareth, answer me. I deserve that much. This isn't some bullshit game anymore."

Still no response. All he did was flap open to a particular page and read from it. The only indication that he heard her was the knitting of his brows everytime she called him by his name.

"Jareth?"

"It's Jared, Sarah." He snapped, closing the file.

Her eyes became wide and she shrunk back into her chair, suddenly nervous. He shook his head, putting his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He looked up at her, brushing a lock out of his line of vision. "I shouldn't have snapped at you, prec-... Sarah." He took a deep breath, as if he was trying to control a powerful emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. But what? Anger? Frustration? Love?

"My name isn't Jareth. It's Jared King."

"No, no, it's not. It's-"

"Yes," he said gently, more aware of his tone after he snapped at her a minute earlier. He pursed his lips, trying to think of what he could say to convince her. "You have a mood disorder called SPD. It's Schizotypal. You've been diagnosed with so many things over the years, it's been so hard to figure out this puzzle..." he trailed off, watching her face carefully. Seeing that he shocked her, he touched her hands lightly. "I know. I know this is coming as a surprise to you. God knows I've had this conversation with you too many times to count. God knows, I'm trying. I'm trying, Sarah. We can't stop this, Sarah. You can't stop this." He looked so sad, so desperate. He squeezed her hand as if he were trying to reassure himself. "But I can't give up on you. We've put too much time into this to give up now."

_Too much time into this..._

_I'm trying, Sarah..._

_Diagnosed...  
_

_Too many times to count..._

His words echoed in her head, and she became numb, not wanting to believe what he just said.

But it was there -- he was there, this clinical version of Jareth. There were no crystal balls. There were no goblins. Was there even a Toby to save?

The gravity of her new situation suddenly began to weigh on her for the first time since she awoke at Reveille. SPD. Schizotypal. What did that even _mean_? Schizo.. She was a schizophrenic?

"No," he said quickly to her unanswered question. "No, it's not that. It is part of the spectrum, but it's different... you're not having hallucinations, are you?"

She shook her head quickly, afraid of answering 'yes.' She felt wary and uncertain, not wanting him to lock her up. How could she tell him she heard goblins in The Hole? Or that she saw his face wherever she went? Or that she was still convinced that this was a nightmare contrived by him?

He looked relieved and continued, "Don't you understand, Sarah? Your mind made it all up. You were my patient for so long that of course you associated me as that character."

She wanted to say: _You're wrong, you're all wrong, it was real, and you're him._ She wanted to say that it was all lies -- and escape while she still could. But she felt trapped, so, so trapped that it was almost as if she couldn't breathe. She looked into his eyes to confirm her theories.

The sympathy in his eyes made her rethink her firmness in the belief that he was Jareth. If he were really Jareth, she doubted that he would ever, ever in several lifetimes, look at her the way Jared was looking at her.

He set down the pen to his paper, seeing the indecisiveness in her face, and explained further. "Sarah, I know this is hard to believe. You wouldn't believe how many times we've had conversations like these..." he trailed off, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and continued, "What probably happened was that you saw my first name, twisted it a little bit, and added to this," he leaned back and sighed, separating his hands, "fantasy life." He put a hand to his face, massaging his brows and squeezing the bridge of his nose. "We were having such progress, too," he murmured, writing on his pad. Progress, Sarah mused. Progress? On her?

"Excuse me?"

He up from his notes and smiled softly, looking at her face so warmly with much more emotion than a doctor would ever have for his patient. "You.." He put aside the pad and leaned forward, elbows on his knees again as he tried to explain. "You have this condition where you relapse. Every so often you get really good, become extraordinarily stable, and it seems like you're okay. And then you forget everything except for this... Labyrinth dream. You become convinced it's reality."

She took it in. A dream.

It wasn't real. Everything Jareth said was right.

She got up and walked to his bookcase, attempting not to cry. "This isn't fair," she said. Taking a sideways glance at him very quickly, she saw it wasn't Jareth that sat there, amused and annoyed that she would say that to him... but a doctor looking pityingly at her.

"I know, Sarah," he got up and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know." He gave her a comforting squeeze, something more intimate than a doctor should've given a patient.

Sarah looked at the bookcase, proud and might oak - majestic and stained. There were little trinkets here and there, the only things that said anything about Jareth's... about Jared's personality. Little box at the top that she couldn't see, and to her left was a small, palm-sized snowglobe. She tried to look into its contents, but was turned around by Jared. He looked at her, putting his hand underneath her chin.

She looked into his eyes which shone with some emotion --- but she couldn't pinpoint what.

"I want to go home," she said quietly.

"I know," he said, sighing. His hand curved underneath her jaw and he carressed her cheek. She sighed too, somewhat aware that this all felt familiar -- these gestures, these words. And it began to annoy her in the worst way possible. It felt like she was just repeating herself, but this all seemed new to her. So new, so fresh, so haunting at the same time. His gloved thumb brushed against her lips and she held his hand to her cheek, wanting some contact with a world she knew. Everything felt so alien but she knew this; why did she know this?

"I want to see my family... I don't want to be here anymore."

Jared didn't say anything, and withdrew his hand from her. He looked away and turned from her. Her heart wrenched and she covered herself protectively with her arms, ignoring his actions. He had retreated from her back to his desk. He wrote something on a pad of paper before tearing it and handing it to Sarah.

"What is it?" she glanced wearily at it, the scene oddly familiar.

"Your dreams, Sarah." She gave a start at the deja vu. She heard these words before. Jared arched an elegant eyebrow up.

"Sarah?" His words shook Sarah out of her contemplations.

"Huh?"

"Sarah? It's a prescription." He indicated to the innocuous paper. Sarah looked at it with misgivings, feeling like she was floating in a dream still. Or a nightmare.

"A what?" She arched her eyebrow.

"As your doctor, I'm recommending you don't think about your dreams. This," he tapped the paper, "symbolizes your dreams. Now look." He took the paper and tore it in half before giving the pieces to Sarah. "You're free."

His words were simple with no eloquence or ten dollar words, but the impact was still heady on the young woman. "Free?" Somehow, it felt like it was years since she felt this feeling of giddiness. Not even when she solved the Labyrinth did she feel 'free.' The Labyrinth, she thought, jerked back into that 'fantasy.' The Labyrinth. She looked down at the two torn pieces of paper in her hands and crumpled them, as if it was a prescription for her fate.

"What does this mean?"

"It means you're not tied down to _anything_," he said, putting more emphasis on the last word than he probably should have. He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. Sarah didn't know why. "Sarah, you might not know this right now, but... we've known each other for over fifteen years. If there's anyone in the world to trust, you can trust me." He sat down, his chair creaking with the action. "I've seen you go up and down... I've been with you through the worst." He paused, thinking. "We're like family. We _are_ family," he added, looking down at his notes and adding something of interest. Sarah tried to look at what he wrote, but he focused his gaze on her again. "Promise me you'll try to listen to my advice?"

She bit her lip. She still didn't trust this man. He looked just like Jareth, of course, minus the glitter. Even their mannerisms and their accents, down to how he arched his eyebrow and other minor details -- it still all bothered her. But then she recalled his diagnosis, and her strange dreams. Why did this make sense to her? Why was she so confused and torn between her "dream world" and this one?...

Between Jareth and... _Jared_?

She touched the wall next to her. This didn't feel like a dream. This felt so real. So unhesitatingly, unfailingly real. She gave a weary look to her doctor. But the Labyrinth felt real too. "You can't just do that and make everything go away."

The optimism in his face nearly broke her heart. This couldn't be Jareth -- Jareth _never_ looked happy. "Can and did." He smiled at her, with such an easy way as if he was entirely comfortable with her. He snapped his fingers like he was Willy Wonka and she was the disillusioned Charlie in his factory. "Just like that."

"Just like that..." She wanted to believe the good doctor. Wanted to believe the scraps of paper she held in her hand. Wanted to believe what he wanted her to believe, despite everything screaming in her that something was wrong -- that he was hiding something. That she was forgetting something.

But she looked at his charming smile, looked into those mismatched eyes and saw no trickery in them. Just hope.

So she choose to believe in him. "Okay."

As she got up to leave, she paused when she saw a framed picture on his desk. It was of a little boy who looked so familiar to Sarah, but she didn't know why. His fluffy blond hair... his haunting green eyes, his barely toothed smile. "Who's this?" Her voice rasped, her throat suddenly dry.

He didn't answer at first. She looked at him and he was avoiding her gaze. Finally, he realized she wasn't going to leave without an answer. He glided over to his desk and took the framed photograph, putting it in a drawer. He shut it like he shut his eyes as he sat down in the chair, slumped and defeated looking.

"It's my son. Toby."

* * *

Author's note: Thanks for the one review I got for the last chapter. Thanks for everyone who either favorited or put the story on their alert-thinga-majigs. I changed the rating to T seeing as I'm going to have all the M-rated material way later on in the story. See ya next update.

In other news: what the hell is going on in Sarah's world? I've given you a few hints as to what's going on -- can anyone make sense of it yet? Or am I just writing foolish nonsense?

**Please review(s).**


	4. Leçons de l'Insensé

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth. I do, however, retain the rights over the creative content below. Please be aware of the adult language and violence below.

**The Last Lullaby  
**

**Chapter Four**

**Leçons de l'Insensé**

_Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens. --Carl Jung_

* * *

It was like time stood still the moment the words left Jared's lips.

"That's my son. Toby." It kept repeating in her head. _Son. Toby. My son._

Sarah's eyes widened at the name and looked at him sharply. Jared (_Jareth, her mind whispered_) was slumped in his chair, not looking at Sarah still. She tried to remember what the boy looked like.. he couldn't have been more than five, and he didn't have the same eyes that Jareth had... that _Jared_ has. No, her Toby's eyes were different... they were such a precious blue. Other than that, the resemblance between Jared's Toby and her Toby was startling -- they were almost identical in a way. It was impossible to really tell, from just a glance at a photograph.

But it couldn't be... No.. it just couldn't be. She clutched her hands to her heart, feeling a searing pain in them, as well as her temple. What was she missing? Was she missing Toby? Was this all some elaborate trick to distract her from the real mission of finding him and solving the Labyrinth?

She turned to Jared (_Jareth_, her mind persisted), her insides conflicted and battling with each other._ Please_, she silently begged. _Please, please tell me what happened. What is going on, Jared_? He had to tell her, he had to put her mind to ease--otherwise she would go crazy with this fear that she was wasting time instead of saving him. "What-"

"Please leave, Sarah."

She opened her mouth to say more, to question him... but his demeanor surprised her. Of all her encounters with this version of Jareth (_Jared_, she absently corrected) He looked defeated, his head in his hands. He was slightly shaking, and she could hear his breathing. Her hands curled at her sides. She couldn't move; she couldn't leave. Not without knowing.

"No. I'm not."

"_Please_. Now." The tone wasn't a friendly request, but a thinly veiled demand. Sarah's heart clenched at it -- who did he think he was, ordering her around like he was the boss. Sarah forgot in the moment of confusion and anger that actually, _Jareth_ was the boss. No, she would stand her ground. She'd show him.

"I just want-"

"LEAVE!" He roared, his head snapping up to reveal his tear-stained face. Sarah took a step back in shock. Then she found herself feeling ashamed for insisting on staying. God, why didn't she ever listen? He looked so pained, so tortured... by what? By her? His eyes were red-rimmed, his nails clawed into the leather of his chair. It was taking every inch of his will not to corner her, to shake some sense into her... and Sarah could perceived it in the air. Quickly, there were words jumbling out of her mouth -- so quick, she could barely register what she was saying, let alone think them entirely through.

"I-I... I'm sorry, Jareth."

She put a hand over her mouth, and backed away to the door, afraid of his wrath. He took in a shaky breath, vivid pain flashing in those beautiful mismatched eyes. He opened his mouth, maybe to correct her and then just shook his head. "Just go, Sarah." His voice was soft and haggard, no longer the monstrous volume it was once before. He turned away from her, his shoulders hunched forward. "Just _go_."

And by the time he turned around, she was gone. He put a hand over his face and closed his eyes, regretting the event. Why was he so harsh with her? She didn't know. She had a mind of a child now most likely, and to her, he was some dictator unfairly punishing her for something she didn't do... for something she wasn't aware of.

But it was the fact that she didn't know, that she should know, that she once knew that made him feel this way.

Why was it like this? He always asked himself that. It was never easy, no... not with Sarah. Not with them. He looked at the drawer, and opened it, holding the framed photograph carefully as if it would break. His index finger outlined the face and he suddenly clutched it to his chest, as if the photograph was the actual thing. "Toby," he said, missing his son, and then looked at the closed door. He ached for both of them -- but he couldn't have both, could he? No, he couldn't have either of them.

It wasn't the first time that Jared wished things were different... that things would change.

How he wished life was fair.

* * *

She closed the door quietly, leaning against its ancient wood. Her heart pounded with the unexpected response from Jared. Jared's (_Jareth's_, her mind wept) reaction had haunted Sarah as she left the office. One moment, he was cool, calm, absolutely in control... and the next he was ready to tear her apart all because of a photograph. _But it wasn't just any photograph, was it, Sarah?_ she asked herself. It was Toby... but at the same time it wasn't Toby. What sort of sick joke was he playing on her?

How did she get here in the first place?

Where was the real Toby? Where was _her _Toby?

Why did he hide the photograph after she noticed it?

Why wouldn't he answer her?

...Why did he get so upset?

All these questions, and no answers.

The orderlies weren't there waiting for her, and she felt somewhat free to walk on her own. At every corner, she expected to see someone, some person she either knew or someone to stop her from her curious exploring. But there was no one; it was only her in those deserted halls. She looked around; even in the daylight, this place felt duller than dirt. She glanced at the walls in absolute distaste.

Taupe.

How she_ loathed_ taupe for some reason. Such a neutral, ugly, ugly color. She remembered, very briefly, that it was supposed to be a calming color. She narrowed her eyes at the color and scoffed. It didn't even deserve to be called a color if it couldn't inspire some feeling! Anything!

She debated defacing the wall but chose to focus on the checkered floor. No, she wouldn't waste her time on something so trivial -- besides, who knows what sort of trouble it'd bring her. She didn't exactly want to see Jared again either. Soon her feet began moving, and she took this opportunity to explore more of the castle... no, the _facility_. But it did feel so much like a castle with its winding corners and long hallways. The only thing modern separating it from its medieval counterpart were the light fixtures above her.

It was a pretty place... but appearances could be deceiving. Sarah learned that a long time ago in the Labyrinth.

It was too much to take in, Jared telling her those words in such a clinical fashion. Why did she feel like she would break if the Labyrinth wasn't real? If the Underground wasn't real? If her friends weren't real?

...If Jareth wasn't real?

She went to a window, noticing with dismay its long steel black bars on the outside. She touched the window and flinched: plastic. Even if she could get around the bars, it would defeat the purpose. She couldn't escape in any case. She recalled Fairley's words from the time before and thought to herself: what did they mean?

Sarah stared down the hall that seemed winding and long, almost impossibly long. The more she walked down it, the more she was convinced there were no turns and everytime she looked back, it was as if she didn't move that far. She touched the wall with her right hand, and drifted down it like a ghost. Did it really matter if she found the way out? What did she have to welcome her other than doctors and undesirable diagnoses? No, it was better to stay lost, better to-

The cool metal jerked her from her thoughts and she stepped back.

From far away it looked like any other door, but up close, if one knew how to look at it, there were remarkable differences. It was a metal door with a slit, much like the one with The Hole. There was a heavy lock on her left and a clipboard on her right. But what was most tantalizing about this door was not its different material, nor its lock... but what was eminating from within. A mantra, almost like a song danced through the thick material. It called out to Sarah, this voice, as if it asked something precarious and precious... as if the whole world would fall if she rejected it.

She shivered and came closer despite herself. The voice grew louder and she pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear. But no, there it was. A woman. No. A girl. It was a young girl, like her. Her heart chilled and she pressed herself closer to the door beyond physical limitations, straining to hear more. What she did hear, she couldn't understand.

_"Dios te salve. A ti clamamos los desterrados hijos de Eva. A ti suspiramos gimiendo y llorando en este valle de lágrimas. Ea, pues, Señora, abogada nuestra: vuelve a nosotros esos tus ojos misericordiosos.*"_

"Hello?" she said. The voice stopped immediately. Everything was still.

"Hello?" she said again, and the girl didn't respond. "Is anyone in there?"

Nothing still.

Her hand wandered up to the eyeslit. _Just a peek,_ she told herself. She had to see who was in there, who else was trapped in this terrible place. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to help," she whispered, hoping the girl could understand. Just as her own hand gripped the handle to open the slit, another hand landed on her shoulder. She yelped and turned around, pressing herself against the door again.

The pale, blue-veined hand retreated back. A nurse with red hair smiled at her; it was like Fairley's smile before, a deceptive friendliness. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

"I was just-"

"I have no idea who gave you access to this level, but you're coming with me. Right now."

Sarah stared at the woman as she started to walk away. Sarah looked at the door and the eyeslit, a defiant look coming on her face. The girl inside the room was still quiet. Just as Sarah turned around to get a glimpse through the unopened slit, the same veined hand got a grip on her delicate wrist, twisting it. "OW!"

"Sorry," the nurse said. But it didn't sound like she was sorry at all. Sarah rubbed her wrist, as the nurse began to pull at her.

"Come on now," she laughed, grabbing her and starting to push her down the hall.

"Who's in there?"

"Aren't you such a curious thing, Williams!" She didn't answer Sarah's question. She looked at her clipboard instead. "It's lunchtime and we can't have our little guests snooping in corners that don't belong to them."

"But-" she gave one last look at the door, and tried to memorize it. _I'll be back,_ she decided. _I have to see what's behind that door. Jareth's hiding something from me, and it's behind that door._

She let herself be guided through the halls, and didn't respond very much to the Nurse's half-assed attempts to converse with her. What would they talk about? The weather? Hah! Yeah right. The only thing they had in common was being stuck in this place, and even then the nurse had more freedom than Sarah had... and therefore superior. She looked down at the nurse's tag: M. MEDUSA. Medusa... such a fitting name for such an ugly woman. Nurse Medusa smiled, not sensing Sarah's malevolent thoughts at all. Or maybe she did and out of politeness, didn't mention it.

"How did your meeting with Superintendent King go?"

"Fine," she said, not wanting to elaborate. It was obvious this woman only wanted to know for the sake of gossip. She hated girls at school that were like that, and glared at the woman next to her with even more vehemence. Why did it bother her so? She didn't know, but the subject of gossipers and gossiping just did. Was it always like this? She tried to remember and everything came up as a blank. For some reason anything before the night she wished Toby was difficult to recall, and her head throbbed as a result.

_Ugh, Jareth_, she thought annoyed. Did he have to take away her memories as well? She ignored what Jared (Jareth) said earlier about her frequent lapses in memory, and chose to blame him instead as if he were some almighty God and she was just his little pawn in a game to play with.

"Really," Nurse Medusa continued, not taking a hint. Her eyes roved over Sarah, inspecting her. She scoffed and gave a smirk. "I bet."

What was _that_ supposed to mean?

Before she could ask, she was ushered into the loud cafeteria, pushed through the doors. Medusa gave her a quick smile, and turned on her heel and left. Sarah rubbed her behind through her thin, scratchy inmates' uniform. She didn't know why the outfits they were given had to be made of such low quality cloth and a bright orange color. Then she almost gave a snort; who was she to give fashion tips? Her stomach rumbled and she groaned. The night prior all she had was some leftover bread to eat before she went to bed... she'd better just eat now if she wanted the energy to find that door again (and the girl behind it).

Moments later, it was no different than before, for Sarah decided it was probably just as well that she didn't eat given what seemed to be on the menu that week.

She looked at her tray with disgust. Peach cobbler. Peach stew. Peaches in sugary syrup. Even the drinks that were offered were pureed peaches. The only thing remotely edible was a piece of stale bread, and maybe the small glass of water she pilfered. "Are they serious?" Any appetite she did have was suddenly gone with the wind, or in this case, peaches. Suddenly she was in shadows and she looked up.

A group of girls had approached her and she warily regarded them, unable to take more surprises after her run in with Jareth (with Jared, she amended hastily, unsure of herself) that morning. One of them was the first to set a tray down on the table, as if declaring something to the rest.

She flipped her short light brown hair as she slid down the table. She gave a pointed look at the rest, jerking her head in her direction. "Man, what you did today was so _badass_, Sarah."

Sarah tensed, not saying anything. Without another word, they all assumed their seats around her. The girl who had admired her continued to talk. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that to Fairley for such a long time." She dug into her food. The girl next to the one talking gave a snort, but there was a smile nevertheless on her face. The brown-haired girl continued, encouraged by the response. "Hope the King didn't crucify you too bad for that. I mean, that bitch really deserved it the way she was baiting you like that..." Then she noticed Sarah's untouched tray of food.

"What's with you, Sarah? You love peaches." She was now opposite Sarah and had already started to eat her stew. The three other girls began to set down their trays and sit next to each other, as if they had always been a group of five.

Maybe they had.

"I do?" Despite her previous promise to refuse interaction with anyone (lest they be an operative of Jareth), she couldn't contain her surprise at the expectation that she actually loved the dishes in front of her. She felt like retching in fact.

"Y-y-yeah," another girl who sat down next to her said. "Y-y-you luh-luh-love them." She nimbly took her bread and took off a tiny piece before reaching into her inside coat pocket and dropping it in. She cooed at whatever was there inside, clicking her tongue.

Another girl looked on in disgust, dropping her spork on the tray as she glared at the object of distaste. "Do you have to do that here, Ella?"

"Y-yes," Ella said meekly, already polishing her plastic utensils with her papery napkin. She kept her eyes on the table, unable to look the other girl in the eyes. Instead of placating her, it made the dark haired girl even more voracious. But before she opened her mouth again, the girl across from Sarah gave the dark-haired girl a withering look, silencing her effectively (at least then.)

The blonde girl beside Sarah looked gratefully at her savior, and proceeded to discreetly feed whatever thing she held in her pocket. Then she delicately took the fresh peach and sliced it into even quarters with her plastic spork, and then sliced those slices into even smaller ratios, assembling them neatly on her tray. She hummed a bit as moved her head, her long locks swaying with the movement.

The raven-haired girl gave a revolted sigh, and proceeded to dig in. Her full, red lips were parted in concentration every now and then and contrasted vividly with her pale, smooth skin. She was lovely, yes, but a cold beauty. She looked like she had ice in her veins than hot, human blood. "Whatever," the girl mumbled under her breath, wanting to pursue her aggression but knowing there'd be plenty of opportunities later on.

The brown-haired girl smirked in victory. She brushed aside a lock on her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. She tugged on it in the process, a subconscious nervous tic that she couldn't control.

Sarah looked around at her, unable to believe it. In just a matter of seconds, she had accumulated a following. Huh. Somehow, she was impressed with herself.

"You, uh.. gonna eat that?" Sarah looked at a very hungry brown-haired girl across from her who had already finished the meal in her own tray, and shook her head, pushing the tray disdainfully to her with her finger, as if to touch the contents was to burn her skin. She only reserved the bread. "Take it."

"Gee, thanks!"

"No problem," Sarah said, trying to keep the peach flavored bile in her stomach down. She didn't have to eat it to feel it in her already. The peach that Jareth had drugged was still in her system probably. Ugh. Jareth. She looked at the rest of the girls around her. She picked up her bread and copying the brown-haired girl across her, sniffed it for any remnants of peaches before eating it almost entirely whole. It was amazing what several days of no food could do for her appetite; eating the stale bread was comparable to eating rich, chocolate souffle. She wished that she had more bread to eat and considered getting up to get in line again before resigning to just sitting there. She could wait til dinner.

"You're gonna regret that later," the dark-haired girl mumbled, messily jamming food into her mouth.

Sarah arched her eyebrow up. "Why's that?"

"You know why. Everyone's got to-ow!" She rubbed her side and glared at the girl next to her. "Bo, what the fuck?"

Bo gave her a pointed look before explaining to Sarah, smiling easily at the girl. "Sorry. Blanche has got a mouth on her. It's always getting her in trouble these days." The last sentence, while said to Sarah, were obviously a message for Blanche to shut up. Blanche, on the other hand, grumbled and rubbed her side still, stabbing her food with her utensil.

Blanche muttered, "Everyone pickin' on me..."

Sarah, still unsure of what just happened, ignored it (for now) and began to ask questions that were long on her mind. Questions having to do with a certain Goblin King-cum-Psychiatrist. "So, can anyone tell me what's the deal with Jareth?"

The girls all laughed together at some private unseen joke. Sarah went red with embarrassment, regretting bringing the subject up. Ella spoke up, delicately setting down her drink on the surface as if it would break. "Y-y-you meh-meh-mean Dr. King?"

"Whatever," Sarah flippantly said, not caring to call him by his given name here. She didn't care if he was Jared, or Jareth -- she just wanted out of here... and that was through him. "What about him?" She persisted. Some of the girls looked uncomfortable, as if new light was suddenly shed on the situation at hand. _But what_, Sarah wondered. What was going on?

"Oh yeah. Right, I forgot. You've got that '_thing_' with the King, huh?" Bo said, laughing slightly as she ate the cobbler. Some of it dribbled onto her chin, but she didn't clean it off. Sarah blinked.

"What thing?"

Blanche interrupted Bo, leaning in a conspirator's fashion. "What Bo means to say," she gave a delicious look to Bo as the other girl glared at the raven-haired one with venomous dislike, "-is that we understand your plight against the Goblin King-"

"Blanche-"

"We were put here by him too, you know-"

"Blanche, cut it out-"

"All the babies that were stolen from us from him are now goblins that skitter around the castle to haunt us til we die-"

"Blanche, you fucking _bitch_-"

"What?" Blanche said, sporking some food into her mouth. She shrugged and swallowed, as if her previous words didn't have any significance to them. "It's what she wants to hear." Bo looked like she wanted to strangle Blanche, and instead focused her attention on Sarah, who was quivering with rage at the information given to her. Bo put a hesitant hand on Sarah's which jerked away back to her body. Bo looked anguished at her plight and resolve to step on Blanche's foot for payback later.

Bo caught Sarah's eyes and smiled hesitantly. "Don't listen to her, Sarah. She just took her _bitch_ pills today. She's lying, don't believe a word she says."

Blanche snorted in response, drinking her pureed peaches.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's always 'blame Blanche' here."

Bo narrowed her eyes at the woman and slammed her fist down on the table. "Shut up. Now you've upset her."

"Me? And what were you going to do? Feed her those silly lies you tell her every time she gets like this?"

"At least it's better than what you do all the time, you hateful black thing."

Blanche rolled her eyes, but chose not to continue the conversation, ending it with, "Well, that's a first."

And then silence at the table, except for the occasional squeaking from Ella's coat pocket. Sarah had difficulty breathing. For a moment, she actually believed Blanche's words until she realized that she was teasing her on purpose, humiliating her in front of everyone. Was she just some joke? Was the Labyrinth truly not real? Or was Blanche just some liar? Her eyes skirted to Bo who was busy glaring at Blanche. Or was Bo the liar meant to mislead her?

"I doh-doh-don't sa-sa-sa-see why y-y-you have to be nah-nasty all the time, Blah-Blanche," Ella said, finally gaining her courage to stand up to her worst bully. Even so, her facial tics made her stutter worse than before with the stress of confrontation. "I-I-I mean, wah-wah-we're your only friends and Sah-Sah-Sarah even ly-ly-likes you. At-at-at least she _used_ to."

"Please, everyday is touch and go with her. She loves me, she hates me, she does the same to the rest of you." Blanche slammed her drink down on the table. "Well, I for one am tired of it. If she's going to be one thing, she's going to do it consistently with me."

It was Bo's turn to snort. "That's funny, coming from you."

"At least I try to control what happens to me."

"Oh, this is what you call control?"

"Girls, girls," a new shadow came upon the group. "Is there a problem here?"

She was a tall woman. A proud aristocratic nose, slightly bent at the brow. Her back was straight, almost too-straight, and her shoulders were broad. She had her long gray hair swept up in a divine bun reminiscent of the Victorian Era. Her uniform was clean, stiff, and a pristine white shade. The buttons on the front shined so much that it glinted in the florescent lighting. What was most apparent was her gleaming golden cane.

Bo stuck up her chin, giving this intruder a defiant glare. "No, Warden." Sarah's eyes moved from her to this predator in clinical garbs, sensing a confrontation.

"Mrs. Beaumont, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to antagonize me." She paused. "Are you?" The look was hopeful, and her teeth looked like they wanted to chew something, namely Bo's head. The Warden's eyes moved over to Sarah and narrowed, the smile becoming more vicious. Sarah became spooked by this edgy feeling she felt around this woman; it was very different from what she felt from Jareth. It was as if this woman wasn't playing games with her... as if she wanted to see Sarah fall and break. Jareth had always held his hand out to her at least.

Then the woman's eyes went to Ella next, focusing especially on her. The meek girl didn't for the life of her meet the woman's eyes, her small hands shaking in her lap. The woman smiled, pleased, and went back to Bo, determined to make an example out of her for the rest of the possibly defiant patients. "Are you?"

"No," Bo finally answered, losing her resolve. She ducked her head down, keeping her eyes on the table. The woman bent forward, anticipating something.

"No, what?"

"No, M'am," she amended. Her hair was in front of her face, covering her expression. "'Scuse me, M'am."

"Better." She looked at the rest of the girls, particularly Sarah. "I'll see you girls later." And they knew by the way she said it, that it was a promise.

"Geez," Sarah whispered. "Who was that?"

"Our lady Tremaine," grumbled Bo, still visibly shaken by the unexpected visit. She tugged on her locks absently and pulled them back before remembering she had no ribbon to tie them together. "Trust me, you don't want to cross her."

Sarah looked after the retreating figure who went to demonize another table of girls. She looked back at Bo, confusion spread across her features. "Why not?"

"You just don't," Bo deadpanned, and then angrily stabbed her meal, aggressively stuffing her mouth. Ella was quiet, staring off into space, and Sarah drummed her fingers against the table, thinking as she nibbled lightly on her food. Blanche watched Sarah for a moment before speaking.

"For once, Sarah," Blanche said rather snidely, arching a groomed eyebrow upward. "You should listen to us: don't piss off the Warden."

Sarah glared at the girl, not liking her more and more. Who did she think she was? "I thought this was a _psychiatric_ hospital."

"It_ is_."

"Then... _why_ do we need a warden?"

Blanche suddenly giggled as if Sarah had told a joke. "Geez, Sarah. This is why I love you. You're like some dumb panda that never learns how to eat bamboo or something."

"Excuse me?" She tried to control the volume in her voice, but the sudden change of mood caught her unawares. Bo rolled her eyes, smiling despite the content of the conversation.

Blanche smiled and scooped the last of her food into her mouth. "Ahh... I love lunch." She looked at the girls around her. "And I love you guys."

"What is her deal?" Sarah discretely asked Ella behind her hand.

Ella shrugged and slammed the table suddenly and loudly. The trays jumped up from the vibration and Ella stood up, barking incredibly loud. The other three girls barely looked up at the commotion. Then Ella sat down, looking a bit embarrassed. Her blush intensified with Sarah's inquiring look. "Sah-sah-sorry, it-it-it's my OCD."

Sarah arched her eyebrow. "Oh." And then rolled her eyes at her stupidity -- of course, how could she be such an idiot? "Oh, no, now I get it. I know what's happening."

"Wha-wha-what's h-happening?" Ella whispered to Bo. Bo shrugged and Blanche continued to giggle.

"God, this girl is such a _kick!_"

"Jareth," Sarah called out. "I know what you're doing. You're putting in me in some sort of crazy, sick delusion to convince me that I'm crazy, right?" The silence didn't answer. "Ha! That's what I thought."

"Has she gone completely bonkers or what?" Blanche said to Bo, the former still grinning like a madman. Bo shrugged.

"Apparently," Bo said.

"It's not going to work, Jareth," Sarah continued to the air. She looked at the rest of the girls. "It's not going to work. I'm _not_ crazy."

"Oh boy," Bo said, scratching the side of her head as she looked down at her tray with sudden interest. Blanche's happy look morphed into a mean, unhappy one, her previously soft, glowing eyes turning razor sharp as she appraised her victim in front of her.

"What do you mean, 'not crazy'? So what, are you saying you're better than us? That there's something wrong with being _craaazy_?" She gave a sneer and dropped her utensil on her tray, suddenly looking like she was about to murder Sarah with her spork. "Look, pudding pop, I don't know who you think you are but you're crazy, alright."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, yes, yes, you are. You're crazier than all of us. Even Smella over there who barks like a dog. Hell, Bo-bitch here is the only one in the joint who has anything remotely in common with your _crazy_ ass. You both think that you're little princesses and shit, stuck in castles with these bad men who want to fuck you-"

Bo slammed her fist on the table interrupting Blanche's tirade, and then looked over her shoulder, afraid the Warden would come over. But she wasn't in the Cafeteria anymore. Bo turned to Blanche, hissing her words through her teeth, "Listen to me, you shitty excuse of an on-off switch." She grabbed the girl's wrist and twisted it. Blanche yelped in pain, and gritted her teeth. Bo leaned in. "You mention that one more time to either me or Sarah, and I'll take this," she lifted the spork off of Blanche's tray and tightened the utensil in her fist, "and I'll scoop out your fucking eyeballs for dessert and piss in your ocular sockets. Got it?"

Everyone at the table was quiet. Blanche's lip was absently curled in a sneer, and Bo looked down at the girl with barely concealed hatred. This face off continued for a few more seconds before Blanche wrenched her wrist free. "Alright, geez," she mumbled. "No need to get all psycho on me, Bo."

Bo eyed her, watching her for another misstep and then went back to her seat, resuming her eating as if nothing happened. A chill went down Sarah's spine when she realized that the event barely registered on the group's reaction; as if they didn't want to question what happened... or rather, question someone in particular. Sarah looked at Bo who was avoiding her gaze. Bo didn't want to be asked those sort of questions; not now, especially not from Sarah.

Ella was the first to speak up. "Y-you buh-buh-brought it down on yo-yo-yourself, Blah-blah-Blanche."

"Says who? You?"

Ella lifted her chin up, defiant. "Y-yeah. Me."

"Careful, Smella. You wouldn't want to overload your stah-stah-stuttering quota today."

"Tha-tha-that's nuh-nuh-not fair, Blah-blah-blah-Blanche."

"Wha-wha-what's not fair, Smella?" Blanche puffed up her chest, mocking the girl's obvious stutter. She still rubbed her now-bruising wrist, grimacing in the memory of the fresh pain. She had some excess anger to burn off, and decided to torment her favorite target.

"Doc-doc-doctor K-k-king said you're not a-a-allowed to buh-buh-bully me anymore."

"Well, he's not here now, is he?"

"N-n-no... buh-but-"

"That's right. And if you don't stop giving me lip about it, the Warden'll find out about your little secret, _Smella_."

Ella gasped, her lips quivering. Her eyes filled up with unshed tears, and became shiny. "N-n-no, Blanche. Y-you pra-pra-promised you wouldn't tell." Her hands went protectively to her chest, to the little secret in her pocket. If the Warden found out, it would all be over -- for both her secret and herself.

Blanche snorted. "You know promises don't mean shit here." Then she gave an especially conniving smile to the girl across from her. "In fact, maybe I won't wait -- maybe I'll just flag the ole girl now and tell her all about what you're doing. Giving food to that thing. Taking care of it. Isn't it against the rules?" She leaned in, savoring the girl's fear like it was candy. Bo, in the meantime, stayed quiet, not wanting to tangle with Blanche again so soon after their latest confrontation. She didn't have the strength in her to overcome the mad girl. She gave a look of pity to the stuttering girl and hated not having the strength to stand up; Sarah looked at Bo, and at Ella, her heart filling up for some unknown reason -- why wasn't someone doing anything about this?

The girl was crying by now, her small chest puffing up and down. "N-n-no, Blanche, pleh-pleh-please don't. I take it buh-buh-back. I'm sa-sa-sorry, I'm really sa-sorry."

"What was that?" Blanche cupped a hand behind her ear. "Coulda sworn... nah.. I thought it was some girl named Smella kissing my ass." She laughed. "No, it's got to be _louder_."

"I'm sa-sa-sorry!"

"Looouder."

Sarah finally snapped, unable to take this girl's bullying a sweet girl like Ella. "God, you are such a _BITCH_. Why don't you leave her alone?"

Blanche looked surprised at first, as if she didn't expect an outburst to come out of Sarah of all people and then a small smile. "Well, well, well... look who's back: it's the Cunt Formerly Known as Sarah."

Bo rolled her eyes at the comeback and ate more, giving a discrete approving look to Sarah. "Blanche, will you shut up already? No one's in the mood today for your bipolar bullshit."

To Ella, she smiled gently, holding the other girl's hand. Ella withdrew her hand, rocking it to her chest, but nevertheless looked comforted by Bo's actions. "It's okay. Blanche is just a little cranky today. They switched her on new meds. She didn't mean it. She'll keep her promise." Ella looked relieved and went back to the being in her pocket, retreating this mean world around her.

Blanche snorted. "Aren't you Little Miss Know-it All today? What, are you going to be Sarah's little tour guide again?"

"Beats fucking orderlies," Bo muttered.

Blanche looked like she was going to tear out the other girl's hair when the fight to be became interrupted.

"Temper, temper," admonished the girl at the end of the table who up until then had been quiet. She had dark hair with a slight red tinge to it and was older than the rest, but not incredibly advanced to lose her youthful good looks. Her deep green eyes glinted when they met Sarah's, and the woman became awed. This woman reminded her of something -- but what? Who?

Blanche shrugged, giving Bo a nasty glare. Despite this, she showed deference to this person and picked up her tray, leaving the table. "Sorry, ma."

"Ma?" Sarah questioned in a low tone to Bo. Bo signaled with her eyes to keep quiet, and leaned in to whisper, "I'll explain everything later. Just eat and pretend you belong here."

But she didn't, she wanted to say back. And time was running out, wasn't it? She had already been here too long. Much, much too long. All the questions of earlier still weighed so heavily on her heart.

* * *

"Who's Ma?"

They were in art therapy after lunch. A teacher droned on in the front of the class as the rest of the women got aprons on and approached their respective works of art. They were in a circle, all consumed and absorbed in their own creations. For some, it was the only time they could experience any sort of freedom; for others, it was a way to express their dreams and crimes. And for Sarah, it was all meaningless.

Sarah was next to Bo, not even paying much attention to her own self-portrait; it was half-finished at the top and she was holding something but she hadn't gotten that far in the painting (apparently.) It was planted by Jareth, she decided, not wanting to think about how much those eyes burned into her or why she was so sad in the painting.

"It's what Blanche calls Red," Bo said, uncovering her canvas. She busily mixed paints, setting cups of water everywhere. Sarah persisted.

"So why does she call her that? Is she...?" Sarah trailed off with the unspoken question; the woman didn't look old enough to be Blanche's mother, but in this world, anything was possible.

"Oh god, no. I don't think they're related, actually... it's just something weird Blanche does, I guess..."

It seemed obvious that Bo didn't want to talk about the subject, and Sarah knew why (or thought she knew why, at least.) Anyone close to Blanche wasn't someone on Bo's "get-to-know" list. But despite this uneasiness in the air, Bo continued to talk, "She once said they came from the same place, like they grew up together or something. Red's a lot older than any of us so maybe in a way, she _is_ like a mom to Blanche. Once, a long time ago when things weren't as bad as they were now, Red herself told me where they came from but I forgot it by now.. good luck trying to talk to Blanche about it though. She'll bite off your head if you even engage in conversation with her anymore."

"Oh." It answered her question, but it wasn't really what she wanted to know. She looked at her own portrait, trying to avoid those sad eyes that mirrored her own. She half-heartily picked up a brush and gave a few strokes, trying to ignore the pangs in her heart as she did. It was like she was painting her doom.

"So when did you wake up?"

The question seemed out of the blue, not to mention out of context, and she looked at Bo in surprise.

"Wake up?"

Bo gave a half-way smile, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"It's what we call it," she motioned to both of them. Sarah's eyebrows were still knitted in confusion. "You've got this, uh..." How could she explain it? Bo bit her lip. "...habit of rebooting like a computer. One day, you'll be great, and then next day, it's like your first day here."

"Reboot? Computer?" These were foreign terms to Sarah and Bo nearly did a facepalm. Of course she wouldn't know what a computer was... not now in any case. "Sorry, forget I said that."

Sarah dropped her brush to the table beside her, trying not to reveal her disappointment. "But... so it is true, then?" There was no magic, there was no Jareth -- there was just her, a crazy girl.

"Yeah... sorry." It was funny how many times she's apologized to Sarah like this. Somehow, she never could find the right words to explain to the other girl what was happening to her. Bo was quiet for a moment, trying to think of how to cheer her friend up.

"We're partners... no one else in Reveille has our..." Bo bit her lip again, looking at the ceiling, trying to think of the right word to say. "...particular _condition_. We're the only two. Dr. King paired us up in hopes that we'd get better." She didn't add that what she really meant was "for you to get better." She picked up her brush and mopped it up in the color.

"So you have it too, then?"

"A milder case, but still..." Bo looked at her canvas with a faraway look in her eyes. "I still have it."

Sarah wondered how much she could reveal to this girl, how much she could trust her. The concept of trust seemed alien and new to Sarah, and she had trouble remembering what it felt like. It was like exercising legs that had been immobile for so long; how could you relearn a movement that you forgot? But she attempted to give her friend a smile, trying her best to believe her. Bo cleared her throat, interrupting Sarah's train of thought.

"Sorry for losing my temper before. You know... Back in the cafeteria. Usually I pay no attention to Blanche, since she's 90% hot air." Bo gave an odd smile and then trailed a brush down the canvas. "She just doesn't know boundaries sometimes."

"I noticed," Sarah said dryly, and the girls laughed together. Suddenly, Sarah had the feeling they had been friends for a long time -- and although it made no sense to her, it made sense considering what Bo revealed minutes before. It was strange and new, and very frightening... but at the same time it made her feel so much better to have someone there to share these fears with. Despite herself, she found herself feeling very grateful to Jared for setting this up and made a note of it to say thank you to him next time they saw each other. She remembered her behavior earlier today and winced. God, she was nothing better than a spoiled brat the way she treated that poor man.

"What'd you draw?" Sarah asked, trying to get off the subject. Somehow, it made her uncomfortable to come to terms with the reality that she was a patient here; that this wasn't a dream.

"Nothing."

"No, really, what?" Her curiosity piqued, Sarah tried to look over her new (old) friend's shoulder.

Bo looked at her uncertainly, trying to decide whether to let her see. "I don't know if you should see it," she said, biting her lip. She brushed a stray lock that came on her face behind her ear.

"Come on, it can't that bad."

"No, it's not that..." Bo tapped her brush handle against her easel a few times as she came to an uneasy decision. "Promise not to ask any questions about it?"

"Why can't I-"

"Just. Don't. ...Please?"

Sarah arched an eyebrow, taken aback by the sudden seriousness in the girl's face. It seemed to age her more than it should've and Sarah shrugged. "Alright, fine. I mean, it's only a painting, right?"

Bo hesitated. "...Right. Only a painting." Then she stepped aside to let Sarah see the dreaded subject matter. She looked at her feet, knowing what Sarah's reaction would be. Sarah, on the other hand, rolled her eyes at the girl. Honestly, all the worry was probably for nothing. After all, what could be so-

Sarah's thoughts stopped instantly as she looked at Bo's canvas.

She had painted a beast, a monster... holding a single red rose.

* * *

As it turns out, there was no dinner.

At least not tonight.

Instead, they were running laps in the indoor gym located next to the cafeteria. The smells of dinner for the overnight staff teased their senses and Sarah finally understood the term "cruel and unusual punishment."

Bo had explained that the Warden liked to keep tabs on the women here, keeping them "on their toes" so to speak. Both have stayed away from the subject of Bo's painting, not wanting to break ground into that mountain of a question. But it was still on Sarah's mind.

"One meal a day? That's barbaric," panted Sarah as she completed her fourth mile. Bo was more in shape, only keeping pace with Sarah to talk. Blanche was ahead the pair, running with a few others (including Red) while Ella tagged a little further behind them, pausing every quarter mile to hold her side.

"Yeah, well, that's Tremaine for ya," Bo said.

"How can she get away with this? It's inhumane," Sarah said.

Bo kept a smile from appearing on her face. Their calves itched with the use of their muscles, and Sarah scratched at her thighs. All the inmates were dressed in their confining orange outfits, some soaked their outfits all the way through with sweat. "I know, but we've only got another mile to go before we go to bedtime."

"Ugh," Sarah replied, realizing that tomorrow she would have to eat those monstrous peaches after all. Her stomach rumbled angrily, as if it was aware that she was the cause of its plight. No wonder Blanche had tried to warn her... and Bo had covered it up. "Why didn't you tell me about this so I would've had more to eat?"

"Because you wouldn't have believed me." Bo ran a little further, getting into a rhythm. "And you wouldn't have eaten those peaches anyway. You never do after you 'wake up.'"

"How would you know?" Sarah snapped.

"It's not the first time." Bo stopped in the middle of the path. Ella almost ran into her and Bo held the girl steady with her strong arms. Sarah stopped as well, putting her hands on her knees as she breathed in and out heavily. "I know why--sort of--you do what you do -- you never eat peaches after your little sessions into nowhere, and you've never told me why. Even though you love them -- it's nuts. Why don't you like them after?"

Sarah thought of Jareth. She thought of her dress; she thought of the people around them, laughing at her. Her head throbbed and she frowned, rubbing at her temple. "I don't know," she mumbled. She truthfully didn't want to admit it reminded her of the Labyrinth, of the Goblin King she tried to escape and challenge at the same time. And from the look Bo gave her, it was apparent that she didn't believe her.

"Right. You don't want to tell me still." Bo sighed, and accepted the fact that Sarah would probably never fully open up to her again -- at least, not when it came to particulars such as peach hatred. She looked in the distance at the staff member barking through a megaphone at passing runners. "Come on, it's late. Just another lap and we're through."

Sarah narrowed her eyes, distrusting this new friend of hers. She didn't like this new world she was in -- so many nooks and cranies, corners and turns. How could she ever believe anything it ever extended to her? How could she live in such a world without going truly insane? But Sarah ran that mile with Bo, deciding it was better to have friends at arms' length than none at all. The loneliness before was a spike to her heart and she didn't feel very willing to go back to that sort of darkness. Ella trailed behind them, quiet and mindful as ever.

Later that night, she went to bed heavy and exhausted. She didn't even have the strength to eat, even if she had that option. She sighed into the thin mattress, not bothering to get under the itchy covers; after all, what was the point? She was cold no matter what. It was like they never turned up the heat in this place... like they were all hoping to freeze the patients to death. The Warden didn't even let them change out of their soiled clothes after the run she made they complete, and she winced at the overwhelming smell her body provided.

The most she could hope for at this point was to fall asleep. Beside her, several of her 'roommates' had already done that, save for the body in the bed next to her which rocked insistently and whimpered. _Poor soul_, she thought as she closed her eyes. But what really who Sarah was referring to was herself. She just didn't know it... yet.

**Sccrrrch.**

She jerked awake at the sound, not quite sound asleep yet. She lifted her head up from the bed, eyes still crusted with the dust from nod. She wiped the drool from her mouth and propped herself on her elbows. What happened?

**Sccrrrrch.**

There. There it was again. What was that? Sarah got up, a little bit more aware than she was a few seconds ago. Everything was still in her room; her roommates were the dead: silent and unmoving. There was no indication anyone but her heard the sound, if they heard it at all. She got up uneasily, bare feet going onto cold floor. She shivered, careful not to wake the others. The last thing she needed was an audience.

**Sccrrrrch.**

There was that noise again. She gulped, and walked to the door. It was outside in the hallway, whatever it was. She put a hand to the handle and it clicked under her touch, opening the door. She slipped out like ink on paper, into the deserted hallway. There were no orderlies, no nurses; just the cool moonlight shining through the barred windows. It touched everything with a beautiful and haunting blue tinge, like Death's fingertips on bloodless lips. She wandered down the hall, her heart creating the only soundtrack with her padded footsteps thudding with her movements.

Suddenly she heart a squeaking laughter and she turned her head suddenly. Something moved behind the corner, so quickly all she saw was darkness. Curious and scared, she moved closer. The laughter spurted out again, behind her, and Sarah twirled around. There! At the window there was a small figure, barely two feet tall. It was crouched in the darkness under the sill, holding something. But what?

With every step she took closer, there was a voice in her to stop, to turn back, to go back to bed. But she couldn't, not after this. The thing was breathing heavily, as if ailed by something in its lungs. It was small, even as Sarah approached it -- and its joints look gnarled and dark, discolored by time. She tilted her head, squinting to see better in the darkness until she was only five feet away. It gave a short little laugh. She stuck out her chin, hoping it wouldn't see her quivering lips or her shaking hands at her sides.

"Who are you?"

It breathed heavily, not answering her question.

Sarah took a step closer and it moved back, seemingly afraid. This gave her a slight advantage; it was afraid of _her_. "What are you holding?" Still nothing but labored breathing.

With a dry mouth, she said her last words to the creature. "...Come into the light."

It obeyed, moving into the moonlight. It looked up at her, arms outstretching the object in question. Sarah's breath caught, and her heart, her poor heart, was netted in tremendous fear and triumph. Its fangs glinted in the moonlight as it showed her a friendly grin, its knotted hands gripping the object as if it was to be taken away, and it looked up at her with its glassy eyes.

It was a goblin... with a baby.

Suddenly it was dropped to the floor and the goblin skittered away, spooked by something Sarah couldn't see or hear. It laughed as it traveled down the vent, disappearing into absolute darkness.

Sarah heard screams in the distance and crumpled to the floor, putting a hand to her face, shuddering from absolute fear. Her other hand picked up the broken porcelain pieces of the baby's face. It was real. It was all real. It was all a lie, all a lie. Toby. Toby, Toby, Toby, where was he? Toby! But she sat still on the floor, captivated in her own world to even run to any exit.

It was a while before she realized that the screams she was hearing were her own. There were hands around her coming from the darkness and they held her, grabbed her, pulled at her. "Let me go, let me go!" She realized who they were: nurses, orderlies, everyone trying to suffocate her with their hands. All trying to keep her from her goal: saving Toby. She tried to talk sense into them, tried to convince them to let her go: it was all a lie, it wasn't real, it was real, it was true.

"I know I saw it. I know I did. I saw it. I did." But even as she was saying this, they were filling up their syringes, and restraining her. She looked at the fluid and the needle in fear.

"No, no, I can't go to sleep. Not now. I've got to go. I've got to save Toby." She resisted the straps on her. "I'VE GOT TO SAVE TOBY!" They jabbed her with it, releasing the fluid into her veins.

"NO!" she squirmed and squealed, eyes filling with tears. "No..."

She saw Jared's face over hers, hovering with concern. She opened her mouth to tell him something, to say that he was wrong -- that the Labyrinth was real. That it was all real. And that he was Jareth.

Instead, she was doing a marvelous impression of a dying goldfish. All that came out was her tongue flapping, her voice suddenly evaporating in her throat. He touched her face with concern, and lifted up his face to talk to someone else. She couldn't hear his words exactly. Who else was there? She felt herself getting fuzzy and groaned inwardly. No, no, she couldn't sleep. She couldn't go to sleep. She couldn't. Not now. Not then. No, no, no.

_You've got to believe me_, she thought and tried more to talk. Her twisting and turning was already slowing, the drug making her feel heavier and heavier. Her lids drooped down and she shook her head. Stay awake, **_stay awake_**._ Jared, Jared, listen to me. _But he wasn't listening; he was shouting something to another person and she felt her body levitate._ I'm not crazy. You're wrong! I saw it, I saw it..._

Then she heard it.

_As the pain sweeps through_

_Makes no sense for you_

It was that song... that song she heard once before, in a soft faraway dream that she could barely remember.

_Every thrill has gone_

_Wasn't too much fun, oh no_

_But I'll be there for you_

Someone was touching her face. Strained to see... but there he was! It was him. _He_ was singing to her._  
_

_As the world falls down_

_Falling_

_As the world is  
_

_Falling_

_Falling_

He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, and then moved his head down on her chest to feel her breathing. _What's going on? What are you doing to me?_ she thought._  
_

_As the world falls down_

_Falling_

_Such a pretty song_, she thought sleepily. Such a beautiful song... so sad, so pretty - what did it mean?... she tried to keep a grip on the reality. She tried to grab onto the last parts of her that were still aware of what was going on, but it was a losing battle. Was it really Jared singing this song to her? Or was it someone else?_ Was it Jareth?  
_

_Falling..._

_No... don't leave me. Not again_, she thought. She struggled to hold onto the song as it fled her like the world around her was._  
_

_Falling_

The last thing she saw in Reveille was his face.

_Falling in love_

The last thing she felt was his hands all over her. _Jared_, she cried out in her mind. _Jareth,_ she thought as she fell asleep.

_As the world falls down..._

And then she woke up.

Her eyes fluttered open, and there was a bright light that shined onto her face; she grimaced, putting a hand to block its rays. In the distance, she could hear birds chirping and a smile crept up onto her face. She stretched, moaning, and gave a yawn. Where was she now? She couldn't be in the hole -- they'd tie her up.

She lifted her head up. The pillow underneath her was plush and smelled so otherwordly, so magical. She embraced it, holding it to her nose. No, it smelled like freedom. It smelled like home. Sarah burrowed more under the warm covers, feeling a chill come over her. Was it all a terrible dream? She sighed.

Jared. Toby.

Blanche. Bo. Ella...

All those terrible people, those terrible thoughts and dreams... all in that terrible place... all so far away from her now.

She nuzzled her nose into the sweet-smelling pillow, enjoying its comfort. She sighed, this time in relief. Thank god that was all over. She didn't know how much she could bare, how much she could take. What a nightmare. She shivered. It almost was enough for her to never sleep again. She hugged the pillow to her, moaning in delight. Why did it feel like such a long time since she felt this happy? This content?

Not even at home with her father and Karen, with Toby, did she ever feel this good; so wanted, so enveloped in such love. It threatened to suffocate her -- that's how beautiful it felt. When was the last time she felt like this? As she tried to think, a sharp tear occurred in her mind and the warmth suddenly shifted into a deathly chill.

She put a hand to her temple suddenly and groaned. Her head was killing her (why did this feel like a bad habit?). She needed some aspirin. She was starting to have the worst headache. She turned to her left and froze. Beside her in bed was the Goblin King himself. He was in the sheets with her, his bare chest tantalizing so close to her.

But that was besides' the point: he was _real._

He _existed_.

No. It couldn't be.

He looked up from his crystal ball in his hand at her disturbance in the bed, not looking her in the eyes (why?).

"Well, well," he gave her a grin that showed his canines. "Good morning, Sarah."

* * *

**AN:** Yes, that's the same song from the Labyrinth; the same song that Jareth sang in the ballroom (I don't own the song, by the way.) I'll be bringing that song up more and more (as well as others from the movie), and I hope you'll figure out why.

I changed the Assistant Head of Psychiatry's name to Fairley in the last chapter (that was my original intent, but I kept flipflopping on it) and this new character's name is Tremaine. :p Sorry about any confusion. And when Sarah slips back and forth between calling Jared/Jareth, I just wanted it to come across that she's extremely conflicted. And wow -- I wrote A LOT (10,000+ words!) for this chapter. XD You better love me, guys -- put in A LOT of effort in this chapter (I kid, I kid.)

My favorite part of this chapter is the interaction between Bo and Blanche. They just love to antagonize one another. Can you figure out _who_ they are?

I just want to thank the reviewers who left me wonderful words, especially those that went back and reviewed each chapter individually; **thank you so much for your support**, and thanks to those who don't review and yet follow this story. Some people have expressed frustration (delightful frustration) at the way the story is progressing, and that's alright. It's supposed to leave you a bit confused (sort of the way Sarah is.) I will give you several clues though: the quotes I use at the beginning aren't very random, and there's a running theme in them. Also, pay attention to the names I give chapters, people, and places.

*=Translation: Hail. To you we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To you we sigh, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious advocate: return to us your eyes of mercy. (It's a common Catholic rosary prayer in Spanish.)

Also, I'm considering changing the tagline to entice more readers to come in; does anyone have any suggestions?

It's either the next chapter or the chapter after that that it's going to become "M" rated again -- I know, ironic after just switching to T. Guess that's how it goes. Either way: BE PREPARED FOR SOME FREAKY CONTENT.

Again, thanks and **please review(s).**


	5. Venezvous Ici Souvent

Disclaimer: I do not own the _Labyrinth_'s characters; I do, however, retain the right over the creative content below.

Rating: Please keep in mind this is **not intended for an adolescent audience** and therefore rated "**M**." If you are not the recommended age limit, please be advised that the author nor the website is **not responsible** for the outcome. Thank you.

**The Last Lullaby**

**Chapter Five**

**Venez-vous Ici Souvent**

_In its earliest use the labyrinth seems always to have been associated with death... - Janet Bord_

* * *

_You can't escape, Sarah._

_You can never, ever escape._

_Don't you know, Sarah..._

_Don't you know, that we are family..._

_And you belong to me.  
_

She woke with a start, at first unaware of who and where she was before settling back into her pillow when she felt the sleep drain out of her.

_What_ a dream.

She clutched her chest, and then her head, groaning. _Was_ it a dream? She couldn't exactly recall the details, but a certain someone's name was involved. She groaned again. If it was a dream, which parts then? It all felt too real, too much of a mass of scenes that didn't belong together; she couldn't remember much, but what she could didn't add up to much sense. Sarah felt as if she were going mad. At least it was over. (It had to be over.) Her hand absentmindedly reached for her clock only to find it not there.

"That's not the only thing you won't find in its place, dear girl."

She froze, eyes slitting as she turned her head to her left, not feeling so shocked at having company (at least this particular sort.) No, it wasn't a dream after all. Just a nightmare. She looked at the Goblin King, beautiful and cruel, cold and humorous, positively relaxed in wrinkled silk sheets. How could she have ever fallen asleep next to that-that-

A grin from her adversary. "Speechless at the thought of me. My, I'm flattered." He cocked his head at her, admiring her torso. "You look surprised to see me, my love."

"That's because _I am_." Sarah moved away from him despite the great divide that already lay between them, conscious she was at the edge of the bed. _Bed._ They were in bed together. She clutched the black silk sheets to her, mindful of its soft integrity and gulped. She looked to the side of her, at him, and suppressed another groan. Instead, it came out as an alarmed squeak.

The Goblin King was painfully nude and the flimsy, semi-sheer sheets didn't do much to hide that. She averted her eyes and a hand wandered down to check if she was wearing clothing.

She was.

Breathing a sigh of relief (and disappointment?), she got up from the bed and inspected herself. She was wearing pajamas, more like a child's than a blossoming teenager and she blushed at the cartoon character print. A little girl in pink, not the heroine who had supposedly solved the Labyrinth. This was _not_ how she wanted to appear in front of the Goblin King.

"You could always change."

Her head snapped up at his comment and she realized that he was reading her thoughts again. She narrowed her eyes and covered her chest with her arms. Somehow, she felt naked in front of him despite the amount of skin these clothes were covering.

"I don't see why," Jareth continued smoothly, his richly toned voice melting over his words. Oh, it was like something sweet that Sarah craved and she longed to glue her ears shut and become deaf; it seemed that his voice alone was her undoing. He was against the headboard still, his blond hair airily going in every direction; he looked pleased with himself, as if he completed some sort of accomplishment that Sarah was both unaware of and the cause of. "You didn't seem so shy last night."

Sarah's head turned sharply in his direction, her eyes bugging out at that implication. Did he just say what she thought he said? But Jareth was looking into his crystal, smiling very slyly at the insinuation his words created.

_What's said is said..._

"Did we..." Oh god, she felt sick. Her first time and she couldn't even remember it. She put a hand to her stomach instinctively, feeling her very soul waver in this cold room.

There was a pause, longer than necessary in Sarah's opinion. Just as she was about to become ill right then and there, Jareth let out a bored sigh.

"If you mean make love, no," Jareth replied, looking very amused. He was looking at his hands, playing mildly with a small crystal ball to entertain himself while Sarah sputtered and choked on her own precarious morality. Sarah leaned against the cold stone wall, exhaling from relief.

...Why was she disappointed?

"You don't have to be, you know. We could change that right now, precious..."

"I thought I asked you not to do that anymore," she snapped, very annoyed with his mindgames. "And stop calling me that." She had it up to here with Jareth; who did he think he was? Mindfucking her like some thoughtless doll. Kidnapping her to the Labyrinth. Keeping Toby from her. She wanted to drag his face in the dirt for making her constantly jump through vicious hoops just for his own amusement.

"My apologies," he bowed his head slightly, eyes never leaving the crystal. "Sometimes you ask so many questions that it's hard not to want to answer them for you."

"Well, you're going to have to control yourself." She looked around, realizing where she was. The Underground, no doubt. Where else would Jareth have spirited her away to? He had no stake in the mortal realm as far as she knew; he was an enchanted being. But then again... she tried to recall the past several days as best she could - she had the suspicion the Labyrinth was the place of her dreams. She felt the walls with a wary hand, as if it were a bubble to suddenly -pop- if she disturbed the fragile shell. She pressed on the bricks a little harder.

It felt real.

She leaned in and sniffed, taken in by the earth smell, the flavor of magic that seemed to be so indescribable. A sense of wonder went down her spine and she leaned back hastily, not wanting to be seduced by senses alone.

But was she even a worthy judge? She recalled her nightmares, one that seemed to stream effortlessly into another different one. It was as if her nightmares were changing hands, and she was the doll precariously tossed from one owner to the next without much care or esteem. No matter where she was, it made no difference: It all felt real. It might as _well_ all been real - the Labyrinth, Jareth, and that terrible place she was locked up in. They seemed to contradict each other yet coexist so naturally; it frightened her and made her sick... it made her _mad_. She remembered the goblin and the shattered baby and a sob went up her throat for some reason. She tried to hold it back and it came out more like a whimper.

Everytime she decided she was one thing, in one world, some shit like this had to happen. She curled her fist, remembering her distress and refocused on a goal: Toby - where was Toby?

She looked around at the dark scenery. It was obviously his bedroom - whose else would it be? From the delicate French-inspired settees to the voluminous canopy cloth arranged over the generously-sized bed (the same that they had supposedly shared...), his signature color ebony tied the room together. Despite this darkness, the room itself was very light, illuminated by something she couldn't see; perhaps magic. It was very aristrocratic, very him she supposed, and at the same time so artificial. There was no intimacy, no affection, no love... only a cold mature feel to the glamour. It felt too stark to feel welcoming or even adventurous; it felt... frightening, like she was a child in an adult's world. One would think a wielder of magick would have been more creative in the color palette; but who knows with Jareth?

She tried to distract herself with more of the 'scenery.' There were several large rectangular objects around the room but for some reason an opaque velvet cloak was draped over them. She wondered at that, but didn't dawdle on details. She felt too frantic as it was. She was in the spider's lair and he was weaving a poisonous web around her to capture her heart. She was sure of it.

"Why am I here?" Oh god, she was getting tired of asking that to him... to everyone these days. This feeling of disorientation was killing her. Like her head.

"We're merely where you want to be. We're back at the beginning."

"Funny... I never really remembered starting in someone's bedroom before."

There was an odd smile on his face and he got up from the bed. She didn't pay mind to it. Instead, she clutched the wall for support as he got up from the bed and casually strolled around the bedpost, walking in her direction. It was just another day to him; it was one more of hell for her. "Precious, you don't need to fear me." He was close to her now, only half a foot away and she was tempted to lecture him on the need for personal space. Not to forget that he was as bare-cheeked as the day he was born. The irony was that the only thing covered were the least indecent bits - his hands. But somehow, that didn't seem to really occur to her as she backed closer to the wall, wanting to melt into it rather than melt into Jareth. It seemed that this was often the door used to open unwanted situations like before.

Despite herself, she found herself replying in an unsure voice, "I don't?"

He had a small smile on his face, his eyes looking her over everywhere except where they needed to be. His hand hovered over her cheek and she wanted to lean into it, gods damn it. She could feel the heat, the life in those hands, and ached for it in the cold room. Just as she turned to kiss his leather-covered palm, the hand retreated and was going down her neck ever so slightly. "After all... we are friends, you and I. And friends help one another in times of crisis." The hand teased a finger down her skin, going lower... lower... lower... "Am I not your friend?"

I can't tell anymore, she thought. She wasn't sure if he was ever her friend... and if friendship was the limitation he desired in their dynamics. Do friends do this to one another? Do friends torture and debase one another? Could enemies ever be friends? She was only half aware of the hand that played idly with the pajama top buttons, like they were toys for his majesty's use. She could barely remember when they first met... how fateful that appointment was for her; it had altered everything imaginable in her life. And now she was on the verge of being a king's plaything with a mind of putty.

She struggled to keep ahold of her senses. God, he smelled so good. Like a memory. Like all things wild and wonderful; something like fresh air with an edge to it. No, she needed to get a grip on herself. "How-" she cleared her throat as it became dry, "how is me waking up in some stranger's bed going to help me, Jareth?"

He seemed to consider this, but only for a second, most likely discarding it as a poor question and an even more ill-concealed suggestion. He carefully arched his brows and looked at her hands, taking one into his gloved hold and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles thoughtfully, letting it go limp by her side when he was done. It trembled. "I do the best I can, love." He lifted his eyes to her lips. "Can you?"

The response ruffled her and shook her awake of the seduction in process, no longer his half-willing nymph of seconds ago. "I'll have you know I'm doing the best I can, too," she hissed. "If not better than you."

He leaned in and she moved her face away, his lips landing on her cheek. He sighed and put a gloved finger under her chin. "As you wish, my love. I can wait. After all, what do we have together but time?"

He took a step back and disappeared, leaving Sarah alone in the doorless bedroom.

* * *

It was a funny thing about time, being relative and all in her circumstance.

It was hard enough to measure it in the Underground. Especially when all the clocks had thirteen hours on them. When she had first returned Aboveground, time had _supposedly_ been reordered. But how could she know that for sure? For all she knew, an hour of Aboveground time was an eternity here. Of course, it would help if there was actually a CLOCK to look at. The Goblin King knew the only way to keep her stalled was to keep her ignorant; maybe he recognized his error in keeping time in plain view the last time she was in the Labyrinth.

And who was to say her challenge actually ended in the first place...

It was hilarious of Jareth to leave her this way; she would have to remember to give him a round of applause on his face when he came back. His room was almost an oubiliette of its own, she observed. No way out. No way in. No escape. And she certainly didn't feel remembered. She shivered. The thought of being forgotten, much less alone, effected her in a way she couldn't exactly express. She now wished anyone (including Jareth) would come her way again, just so she could hear another being's voice.

She sat on the couch, giving up looking for a way out hours ago (or what she felt was hours. Who could tell.) She thought Jareth would have showed up by now to taunt her or bother her or at least give her a courtesy way out. But no, she was in a room without any exits whatsoever. She was starting to feel claustrophobic from the lack of windows and vents. Suppose she ran out of oxygen and suffocated?

For some reason, the thought drew a chill down her spine and she looked around uneasy from the feeling of_ deja vu_.

And that was another thing that bothered her. She looked at her pajamas, embarrassed at the childishness of the style. Of all the things to be dressed in, did she have to wear this? Still, when she considered her options remembering how nude the Goblin King was... it beat nothing. And that was another thing that bothered her... What the hell was with going back to "The Beginning"? As she played with the hem of the shirt, she mulled over the course of events. She kept getting back to where she started: the beginning.

But who was to say what the beginning was? Jareth? Certainly not; he was no bastion of knowledge, and she clearly remembered not starting _anything_ in _his_ bedroom. She tipped her head up to observe the ceiling, ornate in its marbled darkness. Was the beginning in... the Labyrinth? Or was it in the Aboveground? Was there even such a thing as the Aboveground? Or was this some awful, awful dream?

And why couldn't she wake up?

She sighed. No, it couldn't be a dream. This was too real. It felt too real. He was real. This was actually happening to her and only her. She put her face to her palm and slid her face down it in exasperation. At least she didn't have to deal with nurses and doctors with fake names and crazy, crazy patients. Maybe that was the silver lining; she almost laughed. She was trying to put a positive spin on the situation. What next? Marry the Goblin King?

She thought about the goblin and that baby, and got up from the couch. No matter what, that image bothered her. It was clue; it had to have been. It could've been nothing else but a cruel taunt from Jareth, reminding her that either she lost... or time was running out. A sense of urgency was at the pit of her stomach and she scoured the room again, looking for an exit, or at least another clue as to why there was no end. Despite herself, the whole ordeal felt familiar in a way, and Sarah was getting sick of that feeling. She couldn't decide if she was happy or upset to be trapped with the Goblin King - but one thing was sure: she must find Toby. Toby was the key.

He was keeping her from him, she was sure of it. She had to find him before something went wrong, something terrible. He would make good on his promise to turn him into a goblin - or worse, just to spite her.

She looked at the walls, all pale blue and stone. There was faint glitter in them, like they were infused with magic. She touched them hesitantly with the tips of her fingers.

_Things aren't always what they seem, so you can't take anything for granted._

Those words seemed ominous as she remembered them from before, when she couldn't find her way to the castle. And now she was trying to find her way out. The irony wasn't lost on her. She had walked through walls she thought were there... and maybe it was the same now. She just was taking something for granted.

She leaned in, pressing the wall, and grunted in her effort as she pushed before stopping. Nothing. She looked around, letting her hand drag on the wall as she patrolled the room. There was an opening here, like any other labyrinth. And she would find it. Leave it to Jareth to make his own home a veritable trap for kicks and giggles.

And then there was a pause as she felt something light and airy. She looked down at her hand which was halfway through the wall. Aha, Sarah thought with a grin. Got you now, Jareth. And then she confidently strode through the space only to find herself flying, correction, _falling_ in the sky. The Underground operated at least in some part by the same laws of physics as the Aboveground, as Sarah found out the hard way.

There were no helping hands to grab onto her, and no dark hole to go down. She fell, fell, fell, feeling in the back of her mind that she did this at least once before. And then she landed onto a bed.

Jareth's bed.

Back where she started.

Well, isn't this a fine how-do-you-do, she thought.

After getting over the shock of the travel, her rage got the better of her and she took a candlestick and started to bash anything and everything in her path. How dare Jareth play a deceitful trick on her. He was probably watching her right now; he was probably watching her since the beginning. He was laughing at her! She could practically hear him now. She reached up and threw the candlestick in the air, not caring where it landed or what it hit. A clatter came and she looked over her shoulder, distraught at being trapped. Anymore of this, she began to think to herself, and she would truly go as insane as those doctors thought her to be.

But what she saw made her rethink that statement.

There were a collection of paintings clustered near the wall. Some were on the floor by the candlestick. They were of her.

And Jareth.

...And a baby that looked like Toby.

* * *

It was late when he finally came to her. At least she thought it was late; there was no way to know if it was morning, noon, or night without windows. It was a wonder she didn't starve. Who knows how long she was in that room for before he finally remembered where he kept her. She almost laughed at her joke.

She was sitting in the dim light, by the upright candlestick that had aided her destruction earlier. It lit on by itself when it was upright again. He stepped from the shadows, looking at the damage as mildly as he could. What did he care? It could all be replaced by magic. Perhaps it was never there to begin with; all of it imaginary.

"Where have you been?" She asked as she looked at the paintings. There were many; she counted twenty-seven canvases, all of the same general size. Some were a bit bigger, and some were smaller... but they all shared something in common. The subject.

"You know where I was, Sarah."

"Hmmph. Do I? What else do I know, Jareth. Enlighten me." Her rage was different this time. It was quiet and genteel, with a hint of haughtiness. There was no more childish explosions. The difference frightened her a bit.

He sidestepped her question gracefully, and she noted this. "I see you found my little art collection." He got in front of her view and smirked, his hands on his hips. He looked stunning, with his chest in bare view and his crotch hypnotically tight. It was designed for distraction.

At first she looked away, embarrassed, but then she snuck a peek and couldn't help but feel something deep within her react. It was no girlish notion; it was something that belonged to a Sarah much older than herself. Her lips were parted and her eyes went glassy. She licked her lips but shook her head, trying to stay on target. "What does this mean, Jareth?"

"Nothing, my dove." He glided near her, like a schooled predator and tucked her hair behind her ear. He was rubbing her back gently and she closed her eyes at the comfort it brought her. Nevermind that it was from him (or maybe because it was from him) - she hadn't felt a touch like this in a long... long, long time. Suddenly, she felt upset, her rage dissipating. This was wrong, this felt wrong. She panicked, her eyes opening wide and turned to struggle away but she looked at the paintings at the little family (family?) she discovered, and paused. There was no where else to turn now, no one else to give her this comfort, and she leaned into him.

Who else could save her now?

He shushed her as the sobs came near and quieted her protestations. "Now how can it be wrong to comfort you after so much pain? She doesn't understand you. _I_ understand you. Come, my love. Come to me."

The picture flickered and she felt vulnerable in this man's arms, looking up with her young, wide eyes. The outfit made more sense. His changed as well. He smiled and leaned in, kissing her.

He was stronger than she last recalled, or was she smaller in his presence? The magic seemed to thrill her and she let it take over her. What she saw before was forgotten for the moment, and Sarah collapsed under his pressure. He moaned her name in her ear, and she was delighted that she was the one bringing him happiness. "Sarah, Sarah, I have waited so long for you," he murmured, kissing her collarbone as he unbuttoned her shirt. "It is only you, only you."

She leaned her head back, feeling like a woman despite the situation. He made her feel this way, only him. They were soulmates; she was sure of it. Her small hand guided his bare hands to her face and she looked at him with such earnest devotion. He smiled, loving her gullibility. It made it so easy. He guided them to the bed and pushed her down onto it, covering her body with his own as he began to seduce her.

First he kissed her. He kissed her so deep that she couldn't imagine flying could be any different. Her hands operated on their own; it was entirely sexual instinct that drove her actions. "Yes," she breathed into his lips and moaned. He felt her budding breasts with savage glee and she reacted by grinding her hips into his. Several times she uttered his name in ecstasy, as he repeated hers. Only his had changed however, like a strange shapeshifter in this hot night.

The young girl looked up at the man who engaged her trust, nude as the day she was brought into the world, all but a child still. She covered her chest with her arm while he surveyed her, appraising his prize. She blushed and looked away as he began to undress.

"No, I want you to look."

It took her a more than a few moments to lift her eyes up and meet his imperial gaze. She sensed his request was more of a demand and felt nervous. When she hesitated, he arched a fine eyebrow and gave a haughty smirk, feigning disappointment as he began to turn away.

"But... If you don't want to..."

"No!" She yelled, grabbing his hand as he made a move to leave. "Please don't go, please! I'm ready. I swear!"

"Then look." To make it clear, he grabbed her head, gently but firmly fixing her gaze as he unzipped his pants and removed them with grace. She turned a deep shade of pink, first closing her eyes and then settling her eyes on the sight. His hands had wandered lower than her head, rewarding her for following his commands with a touch at her warm center. "If you love me, you'll do as I say, Sarah." He leaned in and lifted her chin and kissed her lips. "Sweet, sweet Sarah."

He pushed her gently down on the mattress again, aligning himself with her as he played with her body like a doll. "You do love me, Sarah... don't you?"

"Yes!" She said, unable to bear the sweet torture he was delivering to her. Her still growing mind could not focus reason with the sensations she was feeling and she categorized it as "love." "I love you!" She said his name. "I love you! I love you! Please! Please!" She begged him to end it.

"I've waited so long for this," he whispered, on the edge of madness. "Too long. It's time you became mine, sweet child. And only mine."

She didn't fight. She welcomed it, however young in thought she was. Love - that's what she was thinking. Love. Something she had finally from the man she desired it from, a man she wanted for so long. Even if it was wrong, the fact that it was love made it right.

He was on her, and then in her - it happened so fast. She held onto him through the pain, reminding herself it was all of his pleasure. It was her gift to him. She had to make him happy... because she loved him. She had a task to prove to him to show how much she loved him. So she held onto him, nuzzling into his neck and nipping his skin with her teeth as he took her innocence from her.

When the picture flickered again, it suddenly came back into focus and the man on top of her was the demon she was frightened of, even if she could scarcely remember what he did to make her so scared. His grunts reminded her of death and the pain between her legs reminded her to struggle. His name came back to her: Jareth. The Labyrinth. Toby.

"No!" She began to shift around under him. He still kept at it.

Why did she say yes? Did she even say it? She couldn't remember. She tried to push him off but she felt weak under him and simply laid there, waiting for it to end. It hurt, it hurt so much. The grinding, it felt like sandpaper rubbed against a wound. "No," she moaned, gritting her teeth. "No! Stop!"

There was a pause as he looked down at her. There was something in his eyes she couldn't catch as they never met her gaze... something so cold and terrible. She shivered. He stopped at once and got off but she could still feel his weight on top of her. He let out a sigh as he turned from her and got off the bed. He put his back to her as he walked from her, his nude bottom perfect and unblemished clenching with the motion. "What's the matter, Sarah? You didn't like it?" He was walking toward a covered object, touching the black velvet. He seemed angry at the interruption of the coitus, and at the possibility of no release. But he never looked at her.

Sarah attempted to cover herself with her discarded clothing that had now seemed much too small for her to wear. "I-I-" she stammered, nervous. She felt more terrified than she had ever been in her life, nude in front of him. What had just happened? She felt confused. Sarah looked at him, afraid; her will was not her own and she was no longer an innocent. Tears sprang to her eyes and a barrage of thoughts entered her mind as she tried to make sense of the situation.

"Answer me, Sarah."

But she didn't. She couldn't. Her tongue felt as if it had swelled up to plug her mouth and she could only scream with her eyes as they bugged out of her head.

He gripped the fabric, and even from here she could see the veins popping neatly in his skin; it was supernatural the anger she viewed. She imagined his impossible anger that would overfill her and shrunk into the bed. "I'm sorry, J-"

"Sorry for what, my love? Disappointing me or disappointing yourself?"

The cut was unexpected and Sarah was shocked into disbelief. He had never been this cruel with her. Unfair, yes - but never so mean. Her rage boiled over but came out in tears, and suddenly she felt his arms around her. "Darling, I'm sorry. Shh. I didn't mean it. Don't cry, precious." His bare finger touched her cheek and she nodded, attempting to stop her sobs. She couldn't let him see her like this, not so undefended and cold... she shuddered as he squeezed her.

"Naturally, we're both upset. It's been such a day..." he lifted her chin up, but never met her eyes. "And we're both tired."

She let herself be guided into the bed with him. This was wrong. She knew this... even so, where could she go in a room with no exits? Where could she run to? Who would save her now? It felt so unfair, so hard to deal with... she didn't know what to do. So she laid still as he crept into the covers with her and came close to her, their bodies' skins touching. "You're mine, Sarah," he whispered into her hair as his hand wandered down her chest to her navel. She shut her eyes tightly to avoid the experience. "Always and forever. Mine."

She let him touch her in places she felt were forbidden, places no one had touched her in a long time. But this time she kept her mouth closed, too wary (and too exhausted to fight) of the reaction she would get this time. And with time, she fell asleep... in her enemy's loving arms.

* * *

When she woke up again, it was like it had never happened.

It was like some bizarre dream; she felt removed from the experience as if two other people had acted out a play in front of her from a memory. It bothered her and she tried to forget it.

There was no pain between her legs, and more importantly, Jareth acted like nothing had even happened between them. There were flirtations, of course, but nothing heavy or implied... and when he left, she realized she forgot to ask him the way out.

Like he'd tell her though. She rolled her eyes.

She looked at the clothes set out for her. The pajamas were long gone. Now all that was left was a light green gown that was easy to get into. It reminded her of her dress up theatrical outfits from home. And when it slid onto her, it felt almost casual. She got up and walked to the spot where the paintings were.

They were gone.

Of course. Jareth. All of her questions last night evaporated and she couldn't remember for the life of her what she saw that shook her at her core. The only thing she could recall about them was that she spent a good deal staring at each canvas. There was a detail that bothered her... something on them that didn't belong.

And Jareth had seduced her before she could ask. The thought made her angry and she put a hand to her belly... but for some reason she couldn't summon true outrage at what had (probably) happened to her. Was it rape? She felt so willing... there was something about him that charmed her... something he said that made it seem alright. It was at the tip of her tongue. A name. She was sure it was a name.

She felt sick, though. The way he touched her... there was something that transversed between them that confused all of her senses.

She sighed, exasperated. She aimlessly walked around, wondering how much of what happened to her was fiction and what was real - and how could she tell from either.

God damn, Jareth. The things she would do to him when she got a chance, she would get her revenge in more than one way; she could be sure of that.

Idly, she pinched a piece of the velvet fabric as she walked by it, dragging it with her in her boredom. It fell off one of the objects to reveal a mirror. Sarah backtracked and stared.

It was her. But it wasn't her. She leaned in, wanting to touch this weird persona which smiled, laughed and... was dancing with Jareth. A beautiful woman, with long, long dark hair that reached down to her legs was floating around a ballroom with the man that she was in love with. Jealousy twisted in Sarah's stomach and she wanted to break the image in shards for telling her what Jareth was doing all this time: wooing other women.

Then they disappeared to her left, dancing away from her.

She ripped away the cloth to reveal more mirrors. One after the other was Jareth dancing happily with a woman he loved, that he loved more than her. All of them with Jareth, all of them mocking her, telling her what a disappointment she was, ignoring her, deceiving her, ruining her, hating her, laughing, laughing, laughing at her. A sharp pain entered her mind and she was on the verge of tears. She clutched her head and shook her whole body as if to argue back, "No, it isn't true!" She banged on the mirrors to get his attention but they kept dancing away, paying no mind to her.

All the sound dulled away to leave one fateful tune in her midst. She looked up with tears in her eyes at the music box on the stand by the bed. It gave a melancholy sound that made her hips sway as she walked towards it with uncertain steps. She hadn't remembered it being there before... but somehow that wasn't important.

Though there were no lyrics accompanying the simple tune, Sarah knew them by heart even though she couldn't recall when she last heard it. With a mild voice, she sang it outloud, tears pouring down her cheeks. She was not aware of them.

_Alas, my love_

_you do me wrong_

_To cast me off discourteously_

She touched the music box with the tips of her fingers, watching the beautiful little doll inside going round and round.

_For I loved you well and long,_

_Delighting in your company..._

Her heart started to ache and the tears came out more, but she couldn't figure out why. The emotion was so raw and so ancient that she forgot what the name was for it. It felt like betrayal but there was something bittersweet and lonely about it. She picked up the music box and her hands shook with the weight.

And then she looked back at the mirror, at them laughing, at them loving, at them forgetting about her.

And then she threw it.

* * *

_Do what you want, Sarah. It makes no difference to me._

_If you love me, you'll do it. You love me, don't you? Don't you, Sarah?_

_I'm busy. I can't play with little girls now._

_Run along, Sarah._

_Run, Sarah._

_Run.  
_

She woke up in the darkness, surrounded by the shards of glass. She was floating in some abyss with nothing but fragments of Jareth's room bobbing around. She could have been falling, but she wasn't sure. She could've always been falling.

And then she found herself on the ground, unharmed and lost. She sat up. Those words...

She felt a chill and wrapped her arms around herself. That voice and those words struck her as cruel and hurt her deeply, even though she didn't know why.

Where was she now, she thought as she looked around the darkness. It was jarring with no light, like her eyes were closed and she was walking around, only to run into something.

She thought Jareth would appear. Someone. Anyone. Save her.

_Someone save me, someone take me away from this awful place..._

She turned around suddenly, afraid of the disembodied words. She remembered them clearly from the night she wished away Toby. But she was stuck here, in something more foul than an oubliette. She put a hand tentatively out in front of her, attempting to feel her way out, if she could.

Where was Toby?

Where was Jareth?

Where was she?

She tripped over something and fell down. She reached down and picked it up. It was soft and she put it up to her face to smell. It was sweet and aged fabric, and from its shape she could discern it was a doll. What was a precious thing like a doll doing down here? It was a question she wasn't sure she wanted answered.

She held it to her chest, wanting some artificial comfort. There was something soothing about holding a doll after all this time. The childlike pastime seemed to remind her of something she almost lost: hope.

Just then she felt something solid; it was pebbled, distinct, and it was wider and longer than her. She ran her hands down it until something popped out and a small ray of light shone out below her through a keyhole. She looked through it, blinking from the sudden light and saw a ballroom with him dancing with that woman.

Spinning, spinning, spinning. Laughing, laughing, laughing. They were in love. And Sarah felt envious, longing for something that could take her away like that. She couldn't see much through the key hole... there were others there, but they were vague shadows in comparison to the beauty of the center couple.

She let go of the doll onto the floor and forgot about it.

She leaned into the door and suddenly it opened, and she fell through. She was on the marbled cold floor, picking herself up from her hands and knees. She was self-conscious but no one paid mind to her, not even for a second. She was invisible, a ghost - not even there as far as the important people were concerned.

They were dancing, all of them dancing. So beautiful, so free, so unattached from reality. It was a crystalline ball and she was the outsider looking in. But it was that couple, the pair that shone, that really attracted her. Something about it made her feel at once sick and violently jealous... and hopelessly obsessed. That woman and that man - she knew them. Their features were familiar and although not particularly friendly, they were beautiful and sculpted, designed to draw the masses to them. They were magnetic, electric, positively stimulating just to look at. Despite this, Sarah didn't have the words to describe it... and her tongue couldn't remember their names.

She came closer to the view, a waif spying on her desires, unaware that a shadow stepped behind her. "Do you like what you see?"

She whirled around and saw him smirking down at her. "Oh!" she stepped back. "But how-" She turned back to the still-dancing couple, her brows knitted in confusion.

Somehow, things had changed since she last looked (or were they always that way and she forgot to see?) He was in a tuxedo, with a red bow, and the woman was a luminous red gown to match. Her long black hair styled in an up-do with curled tendrils swirling with her movements. It was impossible how this man could've been dancing with the Lady and talking with Sarah at the same time.

And yet... here he was. Before her, watching them dance as well.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he whispered into her ear, tickling her in the most obscene way that she blushed.

"Y-yes." Why was she so nervous? She moved away from him, aware of their bodies, particularly hers. She wrung a handkerchief in her hands, knotting it up like the desire within her.

"Do you want it?"

She didn't know how to respond.

He put a hand around her nude shoulder, gripping it lightly but she winced all the same. "You look lovely tonight, Sarah."

She was quiet for a while, considering the situation. "...Prettier than her?"

He smiled as if she had said something delicious, and he was hungry for her words. He leaned in until their faces were an inch apart. "Much."

She gave a tentative smile, the coiling within her growing stronger as the closer he got to her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The blush that rouged her cheeks so lovely deepened with the flattery he buttered onto her. "R-really?"

"Oh yes," he cooed, inhaling her essence which revealed her true feelings. "So much more."

She gave an awkward laugh. "No, you're just saying that..." The strand fell away when she turned away from him, and he tucked it behind her ear for her.

"Would you like to go for a walk, Sarah?"

She bit her lip, unsure. She looked at the dancing couple that was now frozen in time. Everyone around them was the same way. "I..." He put a bare hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. She gulped, her eyes caught in his.

He held her hand in his larger one and brought it up to his lips. "Please?" It was a tone designed to endear and to sneak under one's skin. She blushed and looked down at her hand, at his lips. Sarah gave one last look at the center and then at her captor.

"Okay."

* * *

She looked up at him, feeling more timid than she did before. She stuck out her chin, not wanting to reveal her fear. But she shouldn't be afraid of him; he would never hurt her. "The night is beautiful," he remarked. Sarah looked around, smiling. The air was warm, and the stars; oh, how the stars burned so bright for some reason. The moon was in the distance, large and watching the events unfold... the sole witness to this secret encounter.

"Yes," she said. "It is."

"Like so many other things." A hand was on the small of her back and her heart raced. What did this mean? What did this mean! She was torn between joy and fear, and her breath quickened. She would get in so much trouble if she were found out...

"Dear girl, you look positively faint in this light. Are you well?" Instantly, she was ashamed. Of course this meant nothing, especially not to him. She was a fool. She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding, and nodded, attempting to smile. It wasn't that hard when she looked at him.

"Yes... I guess I'm just feeling a little woozy." A little too woozy. She looked down at her drink. When did she pick this up? She supposed it had been in her hand the whole evening. Funny how only now she was starting to feel lightheaded. She didn't notice her companion's smile.

"You're jealous of her," he observed. "Why?" He pretended not to know.

She paused, unsure of herself as always. She looked at the beautiful and round moon, so imperfect in its appearance, and decided to be bold to gauge his reaction. "Because she danced with you..." The confession came as a whisper and she dared to look at him to see what he thought. Would he laugh at her?

No. He didn't. He gave a sideways smirk, with an air of self-satisfaction. "And you wanted to dance with me, too? Is that it?"

She went red and looked away, embarrassed. He must think her to be some child. But his hand went on her shoulder, and she turned her head to find his only inches away from her. His lips were so near to hers that she almost fainted like the heroines of her stories, and she unconsciously licked hers, failing to notice the ravage desire in his eyes.

"I would be delighted."

Her face was all wonderment and silver happiness as he took her hand and put his on her waist, feeling her curves through her dress. It almost made her uncomfortable the way he was touching her but she silenced her nerves and gathered her courage; it was now or never, and she wanted so to impress him and to show him what an adult she was. If it would upstage his previous partner, all the better.

"Do you love her?"

He spun her around and gave her an easy smile. "And what if I did, child?"

She went even more red, this time with anger. "I'm not a child!"

He laughed and soothed her temper. "No, you aren't, are you." He looked at her body, bringing it closer to him as they danced. "You are a woman yet, Sarah Williams..."

She wasn't sure if he was mocking her or not, and gave him a glare. "I _am_ a woman, sir," she said haughtily.

"Ah! My mistake, my lady," he bowed, his hair covering the smile on his face. "It shan't happen again..."

"See that it doesn't!" Sarah lifted her chin. "Or off with your head!" Then she laughed, enjoying herself.

There was a song in the background. She turned her head slightly to hear it better but for some reason the lyrics were garbled... blurred in a sense. She couldn't really focus on them. But it was beautiful. She looked back at her partner who had changed but somehow hadn't; his gloved hands were around hers as they moved in the middle of the garden. The air was warmer than it was prior, and she felt good; she felt wonderful, in fact. Sarah smiled.

"I feel like I've done this before," she said.

"Maybe you have," her partner replied smoothly, but there was no mockery in his voice. In fact, he looked serious even with that slight grin on his face. He was more boy than man, but still older than her. There was some unexplainable charm about him that she found irresistible. Why didn't she see it before?

"Where, pray tell?" She arched a brow.

He leaned and his lips brushed her ear. "Your dreams, Sarah..."

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the closeness. There was nothing obscene about it - it felt natural and right. She looked up and his eyes had met hers. His gloved finger touched her cheek and she leaned into him. "Would it be totally wrong of me if I confessed something to you?"

She shook her head, subconsciously gripping his hand. She squeezed the leather, wringing out a crinkled sound. With his other hand he put it through her hair. "I think I'm falling for you." His voice was quiet, and she saw something flash through his eyes as he looked from her gaze to her hand. He was afraid.

She let go of his hand, and she stepped away. He opened his mouth to say more but she had turned away by then, starting to get dizzy and sick.

He withdrew from her and walked to the edge of the garden by a bench, looking up at the bright luminous moon.

"Why?" She said, her throat suddenly dry. She felt tremendous fear and anxiety just then.

He gave a small laugh. Not at her, but at himself. He shook his head as he looked down at the floor, a gloved hand going up to his face. "God, I'm a bloody fool," he muttered to himself. "I thought..." He gave her a look. "I'm sorry, Sarah."

She didn't say anything. He continued. "I should've kept that to myself... I was caught up in the romance of it all and..." He stopped, shoving his hands into his jacket's pockets. He looked back at the moon. "Obviously I made a mistake."

Her heart was thundering and she sat down on the bench opposite of him. She felt the panic bubbling, floating to her mind and heart, and shook her head. Oh no, no no no nonononononononono this can't be happening, this can't be happening this can't be happening fuck fuck fuck-

She dragged her nails down her arms, trying to collect herself but it was impossible. Once started it was too late to go back. Too late, too late, too late - she couldn't stop thinking, her thoughts going at the speed of light and her mind couldn't keep up. Why did he say those words? Didn't he know? Didn't he know that words had power? Words had power, words had power, oh god, I'm going to die-

She put a hand to her chest and tried to breathe. Her partner hadn't noticed her situation, too stuck in his own head to realize that she was drowning in her emotions. Sarah gripped the stone bench as she blubbered for help and finally he looked. He had changed... and so had she. The gloves were gone as he put one finger to his chin, contemplating the circumstance. Then, as he looked around to make sure there were no witnesses, walked over to her... slowly, like a cat. His eyes seemed to gleam in the dark and she felt true fright rise up.

She wanted to beg "No."

She wanted to say "Stop."

But she felt powerless on the floor as the darkness seemed to bleed in like Indian ink into her vision. Her muscles ceased to work and her strength had all but vanished.

All she saw was his smile, which revealed all of his sharp teeth, as he closed in for the kill.

* * *

"Sarah?"

She stirred, opening her eyes. She was on the ground that was covered with glass shards. Jareth was hovering over her, his eyes going up and down her body to survey the damage. She felt so cold, her skin so icy... but she didn't shiver. She propped herself up on her elbows as she attempted to get up. She felt his hands on her to assist her and hissed for him to stay away.

"I can do it myself," she said, sending him a glare. She felt achy and sore... and she had no idea what had transversed. Well, she had some idea, of course, but not a very clear one. Once again, she was here in the bedroom she thought she escaped. Her fists balled at her sides as she pretended to observe her setting. She was still in her dress.

"Where am I?" It was a question designed to set her off. And his reply was the match.

"You are right back at the beginning."

She stopped walking and without turning to him, said, "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He replied, with no indication of mockery.

"That! This!" She looked at him with such rage that she imagined even he could be scared. But he simply looked at his damn crystals. She lifted a hand to her shoulder and tore the sleeves off of her dress and ripped them, throwing them at him. She bent down and gripped one of the shards of glass on the floor, holding it so tightly she began to bleed in her palm. "Don't say it." She held up the shard to her neck.

He was calm. "Say what?"

"Don't you tell me I'm at the god damn beginning. Enough games! I've had it! Tell me what does all this mean, Jareth? I want some fucking answers."

"And I have given them to you, Sarah." It was like talking to a child.

"Bullshit! All you've given me is a lot of heartache and headaches. I feel sick the way you're treating me."

"If you want the right answers, then you must ask the right questions..."

Word game playing asshole, she thought. Blood was pooling by her side, seeping into her pretty white dress. "Where is Toby?" He tossed a crystal from one hand to the other, looking as if he were thinking of a solution. She bristled at this act and let go of the shard. It dropped with a chime in her blood as she moved away.

"Where is he?" She screamed, grabbing a jug and smashing it against the wall. She picked up another. "Is he a goblin?" She smashed that one as well. "Did you hide him someplace? Are these the right questions?" She looked at him, wanting to kill him - wanting to kill herself to bringing them into this situation. This was all her fault, all her fault. She trembled as he got closer and she launched herself at him.

She raised her fists as she began to beat against his chest. "Did you kill him? Is he even alive? Why can't you tell me? Why can't you just tell me?"

Tears ran down her face as she slid against him and knelt down on the floor. She looked at her hands, opening and closing them in her lap. "I just want to see him again. I just want to hold him again. Why can't you understand that, you monster?" She looked up at him through her tears. Her vision was blurry and his outline was angelic... his hair reflecting the light in the most beautiful way. His cape draped around him, creating a silhouette that appeared as folded wings... if Sarah didn't know better, she would've sworn it was her salvation.

A hand was clasped around her shoulder, fingers reaching into her skin as she was brought into an embrace. "No," she said, resisting the touch. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me ever again. I hate you. I hate you!"

He let go and she backed away. "You've ruined my life, Goblin King. You've ruined it!" Her back bumped into the corner and she felt a breeze behind her. She gave a glance at Jareth. "And you're not even sorry... you've done nothing but give me grief... I wish..."

She paused, her head tilting. She sniffled and her eyes got clear as the words came to her.

"I wish you would just die."

And she let herself fall back through the corner and into the sky.

Falling.

Falling...

Falling down.

* * *

She couldn't tell when she landed.

If she landed.

If she was still falling.

The next thing she could truly recall was walking - maybe that was what she was always doing: moving, in all these different forms... perhaps to save herself. Perhaps to escape. Perhaps to run away from the fact that she had gone mad so long ago.

Sarah felt too much like Alice in Wonderland... except she was more frightened, more angry, more upset than she imagined Alice could've ever been. There was no white rabbit to lead her to the end; there was no mad hatter to distract her with his teacups.

There was just a hallway, a beige hallway, with no doors and no windows... only blurred paintings on each side.

She walked down with unsteady feet, hating her life. With her luck, she would never find the way out. Oh, it was so much easier before... with Ludo, and Sir Didymus, and... Hoggle. Her heartstrings strummed that chord as she thought of it all. Was it truly all made up or was it one of Jareth's neverending book of lies? She couldn't tell, and that's what angered her so much.

If only Jareth had never existed, then there would be no need for any of this. She would have been home with her father and stepmother, and with darling little Toby who up til recently she had never appreciated and (regrettably) not loved enough to prevent the damage from being done.

But it was done, and all she could do was carry on until the end.

She paused, rubbing her ankle. The hallway seemed to go on forever.

"Does it ever end?"

"It ends when you want it to end."

He was behind her. Was he always behind her? She looked over her shoulder, observing him. He was leaned against the wall beside a large canvas. A crop was by his side, and a perpetual smirk on his face. Other than that, he was no worse for the wear.

"Charming display you gave me before, Sarah," he said.

"Glad you enjoyed it," she bit, continuing her walk, determined to ignore him. If she pretended he didn't exist, perhaps he would disappear.

She gave a snort. "Fat chance," she mumbled, not feeling her luck lately.

"You can only go so far, you know," he called after her. She waved a hand, grumbling that goblin kings knew nothing and where they could indefinitely shove their crops.

She was aware he was following her. She didn't hear footsteps but somehow knew that if she turned around, even to look, he would be there, mocking her in some insufferable fashion. And he was right... she could only go so far. It reminded her thoroughly of the Labyrinth... how long would she have stayed in it without listening to that worm? She looked at the cracks which were dark and empty, and sighed. No worms here to offer tea and crumpets.

"Looking for something?"

She didn't bother to give a reply.

He continued. "Even though you don't want it, I'll give you a hint. Look to your side."

She didn't want to listen, but what options did she have except to walk to her death? On her side was a painting, not one that she could see clearly, mind you... it was frightfully blurry but there was something about the shape that captured her. She knew it, didn't she? What it was underneath the visual grime...

"Touch it."

She looked at him in surprise but he wasn't looking at her; he was looking at the painting. She waited for him to say more before lifting her hand to it. Her fingertips quivered and she gulped. Now was not the time to get nervous... it was just a painting... just a painting... just a painting.

Wasn't it?

Her fingertips touched something that felt smooth, buttery, but without any earthly residue. No, it was magic - it had to have been... And the green hues of the painting grew out, vines creeping to say hello and conquer the hall, flowers that bloomed and watched her, and the smells of a lotus lagoon filled her senses. She closed her eyes, feeling her heart ache as her body melted into this reality.

When she opened them, the hall was gone, and she looked back. The Goblin King was there, watching her, careful not to meet her eyes. There were things no artist could have dreamed of... she watched as life came to what was unlife. Plants reached out, leaves and branches curling, unfurling, sprawling to own their territory.

"What is this?"

"It's yours... do you like it?"

"Like it?" She breathed as she watched the scenery. "I... love it." She had been here before; she was sure of it. Why else would this feel like home? Out of everything in the Labyrinth, out of this entire experience, she hadn't felt like she quite 'fit' save for this moment.

"I thought you would," he said. There wasn't arrogance in his voice, only self-assurance. She touched a leaf that responded to her actions, and held it in the palm of her hand. He was close to her, behind her as she explored her world when she stopped all of a sudden.

She leaned into him and said in a small voice. "Toby isn't here... is he?"

His answer surprised her. "Yes, actually... I suppose he is here."

"Please..." she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. She had said this to him before in the same way. _Please... he's my little brother. He must be so scared... _ "Take me to him."

A gloved hand grazed her cheek in an affectionate fashion and cupped her chin. "I can't. Not yet."

"Why not?" She clasped his hand which was still holding her face. When he gave no answer, she changed tactics. "When then? When can I see him?"

"When you're ready, precious."

She took his gloved hand off her face. "When I'm ready? I'm ready now, Jareth!"

"Shhh, darling," he put a finger to her lips. "Dance with me."

"No."

"...Please?" He had changed, and so had she. She met his mismatched eyes and put a shaking hand into his. He squeezed it gently. "Just one dance," he said. "Just one."

"...Alright."

He gave a cautious smile, too wary to express his happiness in front of her. His hand hovered over her waist and he looked for permission to touch. She nodded and his hand rest there comfortably. She felt a whirring inside of her and closed her eyes to fight it. She hadn't been touched this way in such a long time... and even then. She looked at his chest that came closer to her and laid her head down on his chest. He smelled like she thought he would, such a deep fragrance of leather and spice... of old books and romance. She nuzzled her nose into his shoulder despite herself and he smiled, putting his cheek on the top of her head as they swayed to no music. It was just the sounds that entertained them.

Then he opened his mouth. "Shall I sing for you?"

It was the exact thing to destroy the mood. Her muscles quaked as she shuddered, wrenching herself away from him. She felt so raw, so on edge... what had she been doing? What did she allow to go on?

"Sarah?" He put a hand on her arm.

"I can't do this anymore," she said, pushing him away. "I can't. I just can't."

"Why not?" He was holding on to her hand, so desperate, so needy. "Why can't we just try-"

"Because it's not going to happen," she snapped and wrung her hand free. "Never in a million years. I'll never love you, I'll never love anyone."

"Sarah-" He tried to touch her and she slapped him across the face.

"Get away from me!"

She realized what she had done as she looked at him. He was hurt, tears in his eyes that he kept at bay. His cheek was still red and she shook her head, hating herself more and more. All she could do was hurt; she can't love, a monster like her could never love. And now she did it. She pushed the one person in her life that could care about her away forever.

She stepped back as he stepped forward. "Sarah..."

"Go away!" Her mouth was saying. "I hate you."

Don't go away, her heart was saying. I love you.

She turned away, determined never to let anyone close to her heart again. And ran. Sarah ran away... from everything.

The picture shifted slightly. She was the same but not the same, and she slowed down, leaning against a column. She felt like she was going crazy... Sarah put a hand to her temple and groaned. And the pain was getting worse. There was something at the end of the garden though... something that flickered in the moonlight.

She walked closer, her shoulder dragging against the hedge as she held her head. Her dress was still covered with blood.

Something floated past her, something so ethereal and blue. She looked to her side and saw a withered vineyard. Was it a fairy? Her fingertips pulsed with the memory of being bitten before, and she cautiously held her hands to her chest. Still she walked on.

But it wasn't a fairy. No, it was... she strained her eyes to see in the dimness. It was a butterfly! But the wings were see-through, like stained glass. It created a multi-colored effect on the surface below as they flew around without a care. Oh, they were so beautiful, she thought. Her hand left her chest and reached out to touch one and as soon as she did, it crumbled into a million pieces. She had killed it. The other ones were still flying around, never landing, never resting... eternally going round and round until either the world ended or they did.

Sarah still looked at the shards at her feet; it didn't look like pieces of a being. She picked one up and it glinted in the light. She followed the light's path away from the place, away from the dead butterfly.

* * *

"Where am I going?" she mused as she followed the light. She was in a hall again, so much like the hall she was in before. But there were no paintings. Just plain stone walls, in the color she most hated.

She felt stupid for obeying an arbitrary whim... and worse yet for causing the death of an innocent. The shard felt fragile in her hands, like sugar cellophane rather than sharp glass. Wherever she was going, it was better than where she had already been. That's for sure, she thought, her hand reflexively gripping the glass and she felt it crack a little bit.

"Sarah, what are you doing?"

She quickened her steps, pretending not to hear the disembodied voice in the halls.

"Sarah..." he warned.

She started to run, feeling so tired, her head becoming a sharp pain that stabbed her insides everytime she touched the ground.

"Stop, Sarah." She felt him so near, right behind her as always. On her heels as she ran, she could never escape him. She couldn't stop now. She was onto something, Sarah was sure of it. The shard was becoming fine powder from the strength she exerted on it. The light was no longer there but she still hobbled forward.

"Sarah." He was suddenly in front of her. She closed her eyes. She had been so close. "Just what do you think you're going?"

"Away from you," she snapped.

He gave an easy smile, his eyes on her hands. Jareth tsked. "Come away, precious." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her away from the direction she was gong. In the corner of her eyes she saw something... an object.

She looked over her shoulder. What was that? She squinted as she was being pushed down the hall. Jareth was still talking, almost to himself.

"We are so close, my love. Come back to me, and you shall see. You will see everything."

She freed herself and Jareth made no move to stop her. It was like he couldn't. She walked closer to it, the object becoming clearer. By then the dust in her hands was on the floor, a breeze blowing it in the direction she was traveling.

It was a door. No. It was _the_ door. She recognized it from before... the woman behind the door. Of course. She reached out for it when Jareth interrupted her.

"Don't go through, Sarah," he warned.

She arched an eyebrow. Jareth didn't want her poking around in there. She narrowed her eyes. It must be something useful to her to get out of here, to defeat him... to save Toby. "Why not?" Even so, her heel inched toward the forbidden object.

"Trust me, Sarah... Don't open that door."

"And what if I do? Huh? What will you do then?"

He had no answer for that.

She took a step towards it.

He was reaching out for her, but it felt that all motions were slowed down.

"_Don't_."

She gripped the handle, pulling it open as he protested, and she shielded her eyes from the light...-

And woke up.

* * *

**Author's Note**: And I probably lost half my audience with this confusing chapter. Sigh. And it's "M" again, fyi. *throws hands up in the air in frustration* I can never win! Then again, I thought I made it almost too obvious with some of the clues I gave out... we'll see if anyone gets it, and if not, no worries - we are only on the fifth chapter after all! :) I don't think anyone will really figure it out until maybe chapter sixteen or something...

I made this chapter uber long! Longer than the previous one. Sorry about the delay in my updating schedule... was on a hiatus for a bit, and now that school has started, the cogs and wheels are starting to run once more... which means more ideas, and of course, more writing. I hope to update more frequently and maybe (crossing fingers) finish the story before the year is out, but who knows. I'm just happy I made it to chapter five without exploding my head.

The song was "Greensleeves." In the movie, it's an adapted tune of "As the World Falls Down"; however, I'm using the book adapted from the movie because it gives more detail. In the book, the music box has the tune of "Greensleeves."

Also, the sex scene. It may feel like borderline rape, but before you get your pitchforks, I want you to save that outrage for a later chapter when the situation becomes clearer. Believe me, things are more than they appear - don't take any detail I give you for granted (now where have we heard that before?)

Chapter Discussions:

1. What do you think the door represents?

2. What is the significance of the music box?

3. Who is the other Sarah?

4. The doll imagery, anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

4. The stained glass butterflies in the withered vineyard: cool, huh?

I don't actually expect any real answers, but speculation is always fun. And if anyone knows of a friendly JS/Labyrinth fanfiction writers' group where I could possibly bounce ideas and get someone to 'proofread' chapters, that'd be nice.

**PS. Review. And don't Jareth-hate... yet.**


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